The Chronicles of Narnia:  Day of Reckoning
by miss.hawkins
Summary: Avellas and Cantricals were only the beginning.  Once again sucked into an ancient destiny, the Pevensies must race against the clock to not only save Narnia, but their world as well.  Must read Rise of the Cantricals first.  Sequel. Returning characters.
1. A Date with Destiny

**1 – A Date with Destiny**

* * *

Peter blew upward, causing his bangs to flutter. His hands fumbled with his tie, jerking it forcefully against his Adam's apple. He cast his eyes to the floor. From somewhere deep within him, his heart hammered unevenly, dangerous and wild.

Oh, Aslan.

"Oi," Edmund called to him. Peter faced his younger brother. "Keep shaking like that and she will easily figure you out. Calm down." Sprawled across his bed, Edmund modeled the perfect image of relaxation. Far too serene for how Peter currently felt.

"I can't help it," Peter said. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks, he strolled to his own bed and sat rigidly on the foot. If his back were any tenser, it would split right down the middle. "I'm nervous."

Edmund raised an eyebrow. "You've fought minotaurs, witches, Telmarines and Avellas, and you're scared of having dinner? Pete, you might want to rethink your priorities a bit."

His words were lost on Peter.

"Personally, I'd rather take all of those at the same time than go through with this." It was true—fighting did not faze him. After so many trips to Narnia, war had become second nature. This, on the other hand. This terrified him.

Edmund sat up and crossed his legs. The ball he'd been lightly tossing back and forth fell to the ground with a thunk. "Just make sure you eat with your mouth closed and you'll be fine." Peter shot him a look. "You really are scared, aren't you?" Surprise colored his tone.

"What do you think I've been telling you for the past hour?" Peter demanded. With a groan he flattened himself against his mattress, his hands flying up to cover his face. Clothes littered both beds and the floor, strewn carelessly by Peter as he tried to find something suitable for tonight.

Biting his lip, Edmund strained for the right words. Rarely did it occur that Peter needed reassurance. Ever since taking charge of the family after their father left for war, he had presented himself as nothing less than confident, courageous, and strong. Narnia only hardened this. And now…

"Just…breathe," Edmund advised. Having never been in this position, Edmund didn't quite know what else to say. "You're Peter the Magnificent. Aslan didn't give you that title for nothing. Besides, you couldn't possibly look any worse tonight than you have before."

"Very encouraging," Peter said dryly. Sighing, he dropped his arms to his sides and stared up at the ceiling. Night air fanned his face from the open window. He did as Edmund said, breathing it in. Some of the tension faded.

"What time are you leaving?"

"Six," Peter murmured. Judging by the window, the hour of destiny was almost upon him. He could not delay any longer. Could not put it off for another second.

"Well, it's ten 'till," said Edmund. "Time to stop sulking and start acting like a man. You're a king. Now get up."

A pillow hit Peter's face without warning. He groaned, but did not move.

"Or I'll tell her everything."

In a flash, Peter sat up, a look of horror on his face. "You wouldn't," he said, eyes narrowing. Edmund merely smiled crookedly, and inclined his head to the door. Point taken. Glaring at him, Peter stalked to it, flinging it open. As he headed out, he heard Edmund exclaim behind him, "Let me know how it goes!"

On his way to the front of the house, he passed by Lucy and his mother. They were sitting in the drawing room, Lucy drawing on the floor, Mrs. Pevensie knitting on the sofa. At the sound of his footsteps, they both looked up.

"You look very handsome, Peter," Mrs. Pevensie complimented him, stopping mid-way through counting a row of stitches. She looked better now than in months. Health had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes twinkled the way they used to when Mr. Pevensie was home.

"Except that spot on your tie," Lucy interjected.

"What?" Peter said, alarmed. Seizing his tie, he inspected it closely. If would be just his luck.

"Oh, Lucy," Mrs. Pevensie reprimanded. To Peter, she said, "She's only joking. There is no spot. You're perfect."

Lucy giggled, ignoring Peter's annoyed expression.

"Very funny, Lu."

"You should have seen your face." She screwed up her features in imitation of him, but ruined it by laughing some more. Shoes banged against the floor as she swung her legs. It took many minutes for her to stop. "Really, though, you look good. And even if you didn't, you'd still be fine."

"Thanks. I'm going now," said Peter. "I'm not sure what time I'll be back."

"Good luck," Mrs. Pevensie and Lucy said in unison.

Ducking his head, Peter left the house. Outside, blanketed in a thin layer of snow, stood the family automobile. Purchased before the war, the many years driving it all ready showed with the worn seats and occasional sputtering of the engine. Still, it did its job and Peter got in without hesitation. The entire frame hiccupped when he turned it on. Slowly, he eased it onto the street, the cold steering wheel making him shudder.

The drive seemed endless. His apprehension stole his focus. Thank goodness hardly anyone was out, for he probably would have hit them, he was being so careless. The snow kept them locked up tight in their houses.

Twenty long minutes later, he pulled up the drive of a tiny flat, the lights inside flooding through the front window. The warmth drew him in and he shuffled across the slippery ground. Each step sent a tremor of anxiety from his toes to his heart. He observed a wreath on the front door, covered in fresh holly and berries. It smelled wonderful. The scent grounded him. Squaring his shoulders, he brought his arm up and knocked.

After a slight pause, the door opened, revealing a girl wearing a long red coat. Her chocolate hair was down, falling in soft curls to the small of her back. She wore no make-up. Tiny, white ballerina slippers covered her feet.

Seeing her, Peter's heart suddenly swelled. She looked very pretty.

"You're late," Ilena said, resting against the door frame with a smirk. At the moment her eyes, usually rapidly flashing all the colors of nature, were a dark green. Peter could see his reflection in them.

"It's not the first time," Peter replied.

Ilena shook her head, a wide smile stretching the corners of her cheeks. "And I dare say it will not be the last." Stepping out onto the porch, she shut the door behind her. It locked with a click. Then, she gazed up at him.

Not thinking, he bent down and kissed her. Her lips felt warm in the freezing temperatures, the sweet aroma of her hair hypnotizing. Peter's hands found her waist and he pulled her closer. Moments like this defined his life, were the things keeping him sane. Just him and Ilena.

Ilena broke them apart. Suspicious eyes watched him as she said, "That was forward. What happened to chivalry and all that?"

Conscious of the fact that she could delve into his mind at any point, he hastily said, "Kings don't follow rules, they make them." He imagined Edmund singing in the bathtub, hoping that if she used any of her Avella powers, she'd see it and back off.

"And what rule was that? Snogging defenseless women?" Her hand found his as they walked to the car. The action was simple enough, but given her history, happiness surged through him. She trusted him.

"You are hardly defenseless." Not bothering to open her door (she's just throw him a look and put her hands on her hips like every other time he'd tried) he got into the driver's seat. Ilena slid in to his left. Noticing the ice on his windshield that hadn't been there before, she breathed out. The ice melted before their eyes, running down the front. "And the rule isn't snogging defenseless women. It's snogging beautiful women."

"Oh, my mistake," she laughed. "Hold on." Breathing out again, she cleared the end of the driveway, allowing him easy access to the street.

Peter pulled out. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled down around them. The light from the streetlamps bathed the snow in gold, and Peter admired the sight around him. He was uncertain if the weather was from a natural cause, or Ilena's doing. One glance at her answered his question.

"What?" she said. "You know you like it. A little snow never hurt anyone. Besides, it's Christmas. What is Christmas without snow?"

"I hope you know," he informed her, turning right down a long lane, "that your snow has been the cause of several accidents."

"You must be referring to when you slipped on that patch of ice this morning and landed on your—"

"How did you know that?" Peter's cheeks tinged.

Ilena shrugged. Under the streetlights, she looked more beautiful than ever. Truly, snow brought out the best in her; creating it seemed to lift her mood considerably. Twenty minutes into their conversation and her sarcasm was still bearable. "I'm an Avella. Mother Nature. I see all."

Peter pursed his lips. He sincerely hoped she didn't see all—he'd rather she didn't spy on him in the bathroom. "Must be nice to be privy to the embarrassment of others."

"Only you," she assured him. "Now, Luke, use the Force and get us to the restaurant. I'm starving."

Pushing down on the gas, he did as she asked, not commenting on her words. He had grown used to her strange references he didn't understand. A few months earlier he'd asked about them. She said she came from all times, and sometimes forgot that there were events in the future he'd yet to live through. Having an Avella for a girlfriend sure was different than any previous relationship he'd had.

The restaurant, a grand fortress, named _La Mia Stella, _was surprisingly empty. With a dance floor, band, and tasty Italian food, such a sight was uncommon. A dozen couples dotted the array of tables and booths, eating, waiting for food, or outright kissing. The host at the front seated them in a booth on the far side, right next to a large window. From their position, the winter wonderland outside seemed well within reach.

The host took Ilena's coat and draped it over a hook on the end of their booth. Peter's breath caught in his throat. Since coming home, the sight of her in a dress had increased slightly. Naturally she preferred her breeches and simple tops. But she attempted to blend in more, occasionally forgoing her pants for a skirt. Tonight she looked positively ethereal in a blue, knee-length evening dress.

"You look beautiful," Peter said in awe, as the host took his overcoat as well.

This time, she accepted his compliment. "Thank you. You clean up well yourself," she added, appraising his suit.

Self-consciously, Peter sat down. The host gave his leave and was replaced by a young waitress. Greeting them, she listed a series of drinks to start the evening off. Peter ordered wine, Ilena ordered water, and the waitress walked off. Thumbing through the menu, Peter felt his energy spike at the close proximity of Ilena, right across the table. They sat in comfortable silence.

"I think I'll have the Ricotta-stuffed Ravioli. What are you having?" he asked, looking up.

Ilena's menu lay untouched in front of her. Head turned toward the center of the restaurant, her eyes followed two couples on the dance floor, spinning to the music wafting over them. Peter glanced back and forth between her and them and something clicked.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked.

Slowly, she turned back to him. "You can dance?"

"Always the tone of surprise," he shook his head. "Come on." And he stood up, holding his hand out for her to take. Truth be told, Peter didn't particularly enjoy dancing. He ranked its value somewhere between rainbows and squash. Squash, at least, you could eat. Dancing, on the other hand… No, he'd always hated Susan's balls back at Cair Paravel. However, Ilena looked so enraptured with the couples, so longingly at the dance floor that Peter forgot his opinions. Anything to make her happy.

Ilena slid her hand into his and he led her to the center. Here, the lights were dimmed. A soft jazz ballad played out. Resting her head against his chest, she placed her other hand on his shoulder, and he gently took her waist. Slowly, they revolved on the spot.

It took a grand total of five seconds for Peter's heart to sputter hyperactively. The intimacy of their embrace, the lack of proper distance between them was too much to handle. The dress she wore hung up by two slim straps on her shoulders, exposing her sun-kissed skin; Peter could bend down and kiss it. The sweet scent of her hair was stronger than ever before, almost intoxicating. Like having one too many glasses of wine. His brain felt fuzzy.

"I promise I won't bite," Ilena said, laughing quietly.

Peter said something real intelligent, like, "Eurrgh?"

"Your heart," she clarified, lifting her head to gaze up at him. Being so close, he could see beyond the shield guarding her eyes, could see the ever-changing irises that she hid from the world when in public. "It's flying so fast, I think you might spontaneously combust. I didn't realize I scare you that much." She lay against him once more.

"You don't scare me," Peter said. A lie.

She snorted. "Nice try."

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the waitress return with their drinks but he did not say anything. Ilena seemed perfectly content to float about, and with her warm body pressed against his, Peter didn't feel much like drawing her attention away.

"Lucy's excited to see you tomorrow," he said.

Christmas. Lately, his life was marked by the day. Two years ago, he'd been sent back to Narnia. Last year, Ilena returned to him. And this Christmas… The box in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy; Peter wondered if Ilena could sense it.

"I'm excited to see her. To see everyone."

Apart from the intermittent visits back to Narnia, Ilena spent most of her time on Earth with the Pevensies. Mrs. Pevensie, though confused that all her children knew Ilena, welcomed her with a bright smile. The past year comprised of Ilena and the Pevensies spending a great deal of time together, to the point where Mrs. Pevensie had started dropping hints to Peter about the seriousness of their relationship.

"I think they'd all rather you moved in," Peter admitted.

"Ugh," Ilena groaned. "That means I'd have to put up with you all the time."

"If you think I'm bad, just wait until you see Edmund walking around the house half-naked. He has a habit of doing that after bathing."

Ilena wrinkled her nose. "That would be a sight." Smirking, she asked, "And what about you, Peter Pevensie? Any nudist tendencies I should be aware of?"

Peter blushed.

Ilena laughed hysterically. "Good to know," she said before he could defend himself.

Ilena seeing him nude was a dangerous thought indeed and he immediately shoved it into the deepest corner of his mind, back where other dangerous thoughts took refuge, most having to do with the girl in his arms.

"Your heart is fast again," she informed him, a knowing look in her eyes.

_I wonder why_, he thought dryly.

For a long while they drifted to and fro, wrapped in a cocoon of bliss. She molded so perfectly into his arms, looked so beautiful, a fire of emotion roared up inside of him. "I love you," he said out of the blue.

Ilena stopped moving. No matter how many times he said this, she never lost that look of wonder at his words. "I love you," she said. Then they were kissing. Peter came up breathless when she broke away. Noticing his goofy expression, she rolled her eyes and grasped his hand. "Now, I'm really starving. Let's order."

The waitress, noticing their return to their seats, came almost at once. Expertly, she flipped open a pad of paper and said, "What'll it be, folks?"

Ilena motioned for Peter to go first so she could look over the menu one final time. "The Ricotta-stuffed Ravioli," he requested. The waitress scribbled it down, then prompted Ilena, who ordered a cheesy pasta. Taking their menus, the waitress nodded and walked off.

"So, what was that about me moving in?" Ilena started just as Peter took a sip of his wine. He choked on it violently. Ilena's eyebrows went up. "I take it you were joking."

"No!" he said through his hacking. Her moving in, being with him—that's all he wanted. But the box in his pocket wasn't meant to appear this early in the evening. The anxiety from before crashed over him now, and he thrust his hands in his lap so she wouldn't see them shaking.

"Your reaction says otherwise." Patting him on the back, she sighed and directed her concentration to the window, away from him.

When he recovered, he realized the seriousness of the situation. Ilena's face was unreadable. Never a good sign. Outside the window, the tiny snowflakes morphed into huge droplets, quickly building on each other. He'd done the wrong thing. Her eyebrows scrunched down.

Forget waiting. He had to move. Now.

He gulped down his fear. "Actually," he said, wiping his sweaty hand off on his pant leg before taking hers, "I wanted to ask you something." Time stood still as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. In his other hand, he gripped the tiny box tightly. "Ilena, w—"

Ilena cut him off. "Aya," she gasped, standing up.

Thinking she had read his thoughts, he paled. Was this her response? But upon closer inspection of her, he noticed she didn't look disgusted, but rather…afraid. "What is it?" Peter asked. For a brief second, her eyes lost their focus, and the screen hiding her irises melted away.

Her eyes were solid black, like coal.

"Aya," she repeated, not hearing him. "Not good. Not good." Dashing out of the booth, she nearly collided with a waiter bringing a couple their dinner. At the last second, her body went clear and sped right through him without any problems.

Peter blinked. Ilena only used her powers at her greatest need and never in front of anyone but the Pevensie children. What was going on? Checking to see that the only person to witness the event besides him was the waiter, whose jaw rested firmly on the floor, Peter ran after her, shoving the box back into the depths of his pocket.

Visibility was impossible through the heavily falling snow. A blast of cold air slammed into him upon emerging from the restaurant. Peter swiveled around, searching for her in the curtain of white. Across the street, a flash of blue soared by. Before it could disappear, Peter scampered after it.

A strangled cry met his ears.

He ran faster. "Ilena!" he called out. No time passed between when her name left his lips and something crashed into him, pinning him to the ground. A white ballerina slipper lodged itself squarely in the middle of his chest.

"Stay down," Ilena's voice whispered in his ear. "And stay quiet." She sounded so deathly sober, Peter nodded. She got off him and again was lost in the blizzard. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and crawled forward, leaning against the side of a building. Without a coat, he shivered brutally. He thought of Ilena in her strappy dress.

Another cry.

He froze. Sitting alone in the swirling flakes, he felt very useless. Ilena was dealing with…something…and all he could do was remain still and not get in her way. All the happiness of the evening disappeared, replaced by a numbness that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

Looking around, Peter caught sight of a dark figure approaching him. Whether it was a man or woman was uncertain. It made a beeline for him, not wavering in its path. Emergency bells went off in his head, and although he'd silently promised Ilena he wouldn't move, he got up, his hands searching for something to defend himself with. Ilena's demeanor spoke of danger. This could very well be it.

He swore when he found nothing. Since the building's lights were off behind him, he assumed the door was locked. Nowhere to go.

The figure now upon him, Peter nearly fell back against the building as it took form. Surely…surely not… There was just no conceivable way… Susan's favorite phrase struck him: impossible. This was impossible.

Dark shaggy fur ruffled back, revealing beady eyes. A large axe hung in his right hand. Twisted horns spiraled out of his skull. A white plume rose up when he breathed. His lower half tensed, his hooves scraping through the snow, down to the concrete below.

The minotaur bellowed when he saw Peter, the sound so horrendously deafening, even the wind could not swallow it up. Struck by the sight, Peter did not move, incredibly confused. Only when the minotaur charged at him did Peter do what any normal person would: he cursed and fled down the slick sidewalk like he was being chased by the devil himself. The ground materialized underneath his feet, affording him about two feet of warning with each step. Silently, he prayed he wouldn't go shooting into the street and get hit by a car.

Of course, that seemed like a stupid way to die compared to the thundering, axe-wielding beast behind him.

The minotaur's legs were much longer than Peter's and soon he was on the High King's heels. Where was Ilena? He thought back to the shrill scream and his stomach convulsed.

No, she could handle herself. A minotaur was nothing for her.

Prevailing gales of snow obstructed his direction. Peter ran in waves, not sure where he was going. His strides did not lead him into the street, but rather down an alleyway. Too late he realized he was trapped against a tall chained-link fence, the minotaur blocking the only other exit. It would take more time than he possessed to scale the fence, so he faced his pursuer, his eyes searching for something, anything to defend himself with.

His prey cornered, the minotaur snarled gleefully and advanced on the eldest Pevensie. He swung the axe skillfully, his eyes already celebrating his victory.

To his right, Peter made out a row of trashcans. With no other options, he grabbed one of the lids and positioned himself behind it. He doubted it would do much good against an axe, but better than nothing.

The minotaur roared a laugh that made the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand on end. Bringing the axe down, he flung it with all his might. It sliced right through the trashcan lid, nearly taking off Peter's fingers in the process. The two halves fell into the snow.

Peter yelped and fell back, completely at the minotaur's mercy. His mind was abuzz with questions. What was a minotaur doing in Finchley? How had it gotten here? How had it found him and Ilena? And, most importantly, why was it trying to kill him? If he remembered correctly, the minotaurs had sided with the Narnians after the Telmarines took over.

All these questions vanished as the minotaur raised the axe again, preparing for the final blow. With nothing to aid him, with Ilena off, most likely fighting her own battle, there was nothing Peter could do but inch his way back. Eventually, his back hit the fence.

This was it. There was nowhere else to go. Pressing his face against the cold metal, he closed his eyes and prayed his death would be quick and painless. The monster howled. _Swish_. Muscles rippling, it brought the axe down. The weapon split the air, hurtling at inhuman speed.

Right at his head.

* * *

**A/N:** First off, sorry to all those who were reading this before. I have my reasons for taking it down, mostly due to the fact I needed to finish a few more chapters and finalize a few plotpoints, and I didn't want to keep people waiting. For those of you who are reading this again, I apologize to you directly.

**Category:** _The Chronicles of Narnia_

**Rating: **PG-13 for swearing, violence, and some adult themes.

**Pairings: **Peter/OC, Edmund/OC

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the Avellas, my original characters, and the storyline.


	2. The Wandering Soul

**2 – The Wandering Soul**

* * *

Bracing himself, Peter's first instinct was to scream when the blow hit. His body flew through the air, cold cutting through his suit like thousands of needles puncturing his skin. Snow exploded as he crashed down to the ground, a weight pressed against his head and torso.

Dazed, his eyes still scrunched up, he waited for the pain to come. Waited for sleek edge of the axe to be pulled free of his skin, which he thought might be in shock. But it never did. At last he opened his eyes.

"Ilena," he breathed her name when he realized it was her. Shielding his body with her own, she raised her head and they looked at each other, eye-to-eye. Seeing her, feeling her body against his, Peter momentarily forgot the circumstances of their proximity. She looked so beautiful with her hair down, her cheeks flushed pink. Peter felt the urge to kiss her.

But then she maneuvered her arms and hands around his head, and her feet around his legs, and flung herself up. Flipping through the air, she hit the chain-link fence with a bang, her skirt dancing around her legs. Absorbing the impact, she rebounded instantly and shot over Peter, slamming down atop the minotaur's head.

_Boom. _The beast hit the ground, sending out a shockwave that flattened Peter to the snow. Peter heard an inhale of breath, and then a smaller thump. Fighting to get vertical, he got up just in time to see the beast clamp an enormous arm on Ilena's ankle. Somehow, he'd knocked her down, even after she had hit him. Before she could react, the minotaur jerked her up and hurled her through the air.

Ilena slammed into the street, rolling on her shoulder so she landed face up. The wind got knocked out of her. Peter saw her clutch her head. Her lips moved, but otherwise she lay still.

The minotaur wasn't done. With Ilena down, the brute turned on the High King and bellowed. Ridden of his axe, he settled for snapping Peter's neck. He charged with long strides, white condensation expelling from his mouth, snow swirling madly about him. Peter crawled back.

Without warning, roots exploded from the ground, snagging on the minotaur's hoofs. They dragged him down into the snow, winding around his arms and legs, even around his mid-section. The minotaur tried to rip himself free, but the roots were too thick and all he could was flail and roar and throw murderous looks Peter's way.

On the street, Ilena had managed to pry herself off the icy concrete and onto her knees. Hands aloft, she stared the beast down. Her arms quivered. "Are you all right?" she asked without looking at Peter.

"A little sore, but fine," he said, walking cautiously around the minotaur, still fighting his manacles, and to her side. He did not miss the blood gushing out from her left shoulder blade, or the redness of the snow beside her. "You're hurt."

"I didn't move fast enough. His axe grazed me."

Guilt flooded through him. If he wasn't so helpless… "How is this possible?" he asked, motioning toward the minotaur. "Are there more?"

"There was." Past tense. Ilena shook her head. "In all my four thousand years, I've never witnessed the two worlds mixing like this. It's a bad sign."

Peter's head whipped side to side, searching for any who might have witnessed the attack. When he saw no one, he said, "What do we do with him? We can't just leave him here."

In response, Ilena waved her right hand, crossing it in front of her body. The roots holding the minotaur sped to his throat, constricting his air flow. His magnificent head shuddered once. His furry arms grasped for his binds. Twenty seconds. Thirty. Then he fell motionless.

"I'll have to fade him and his companion back to Narnia," Ilena said. "Wait here. I'll be back shortly." She got to her feet and strode to the beast's side; she bent down and touched his shaggy forehead. A minute passed. Still she did not disappear.

"Something wrong?" Peter asked.

With an exasperated sigh, Ilena stood. "Something is blocking my connection. No matter how hard I try, I cannot cross the barrier connecting Narnia to Earth. I can't even fade to your house or my flat." She crossed her arms and gazed skyward. The wind rippled viciously, then died down.

"That's impossible," he shook his head.

"Obviously it's not," she said bitterly.

"So, now what?" He hated asking so many questions and not offering any solutions, but he truly did not know what to do.

"First," Ilena backed up, returning to his side, "this." Closing her eyes, she repeatedly brought her hands down. The minotaur sank into the snow, through the concrete and was consumed by the hard dirt beneath. All that remained of his presence was the indent in the snow and the shiny axe sticking out of the bricks of the building next to them.

"Second," Ilena went on, grabbing the blood-soaked weapon and walking out of the alley, "I need you to follow me. There's something I have to show you."

Peter joined her and together they hustled down the sidewalk. If Peter thought the streets were bare before, it was nothing like now. Good thing, too, because Ilena carrying an axe wouldn't be well received. The _crunch, crunch, crunch _of the ice and snow beneath their feet was the only sound as they made their way deeper into the lane, past boarded up houses and closed shops.

"Ilena, stop," Peter said. "You need to heal yourself." Blood stained her dress, turning it a dark black. An injury like that needed to be tended to, especially in the cold. "Slow down for a minute."

"There are more important things," said Ilena, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. "Right now, my shoulder is the last thing I'm worried about." She refused his further protests and hastened across the street to the opposite side. Thoroughly puzzled, Peter could do nothing but follow her.

She led him to an old building. The sign, covered in an icy layer, read_ Tom's_. Slipping down the alley beside it, she directed him to a dumpster, the top of it frozen. Ilena squatted, set down the axe and reached out to something invisible to Peter.

A whimper caught his attention.

"Come on," Ilena whispered. "It's ok. It's me, Ilena."

A pale hand brushed against hers, the fingers purple. From the shadows, a girl materialized. She looked to be around seventeen. Her teeth chattered in the cold.

Peter nearly doubled over from shock. "_Lily_?" he gasped. There was no mistaking that vivid head of fiery hair, nor those soft brown eyes.

"She's freezing," Ilena murmured, as Lily got up. The Cantrical girl swayed, her legs giving out beneath her. Ilena caught her, Lily accidently hitting the cut on her shoulder. Ilena winced. "We need to get her out of here, or she'll die from hypothermia. Can you—"

"Of course," Peter said at once. His arms swooped under her back and the crook of her legs and he lifted her up. Lily flailed to the best of her abilities, frightened, but the exaggeration of her limbs gave away the severity of her state. Purple colored her bare feet.

"We need to leave this place," Ilena said, kneading her shoulder. Her hand came back scarlet. "I may have gotten rid of the minotaurs, but there's still something dark lingering. Lily needs medical attention."

"To the car?" Peter asked, jerking his head in the direction of the restaurant.

"Hurry," Ilena agreed. "I'll meet you there."

They parted, Ilena off to dispose of the second minotaur body and axe, Peter to return to the restaurant. In his arms, Lily stared up at him. She recognized him. Her hand rose up to brush his cheek, but didn't have the energy and fell down almost at once. Peter didn't like how easily she swung in his grasp, no weight to ground her.

Ilena must have been rushing for she rejoined Peter about fifty yards from the car. Back at _La Mia Stella,_the lights were still on, the sound of the band drifting out into the night. Ilena entered to grab their jackets while Peter gently set Lily down in the backseat of the car. The interior felt frigid as he climbed into the driver's seat.

While waiting for Ilena, he glanced back. Lily sat curled up against the seat, huddled into the tiniest ball she could create. She looked as scrawny and mal-nourished as ever. Bones jutted out against her unusually pallid skin. The clothes she wore were thread-bare. Dark circles curved around her eyes.

The back door opened and Ilena took the seat next to Lily. Slung over her arms were her and Peter's coats. Dumping them on the floor of the car, she lifted Lily up and placed her in her lap, then draped the coats over her.

"What took you so long?" Peter asked, driving away. Ilena was doing something with the temperature because the car suddenly fluctuated to above freezing, and the ice on the road before him disappeared.

Ilena rocked Lily, breathing deeply on her. In the front seat, Peter received part of the heat. "The waitress saw me return. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw my shoulder. I had to convince her I was fine, and then pay for our uneaten meals."

Self-righteous as she was, Peter felt bad that Ilena had to use her own money-she didn't have a lot of it. Just enough to pay for her flat and food. As a man, he felt it his duty to assume the bill. "I'll reimburse you later," he told her, turning.

She laughed and the front window fogged. Peter wiped it away with the sleeve of his suit's jacket. "It hardly matters."

"No, it does matter."

"Peter, just watch the road and drive. Considering all we've been through tonight, money isn't the big issue on my mind." In her arms, Lily shivered.

"Is she going to be ok?"

Ilena took a long time answering. She whispered, "She'll live, for sure. All of her vitals are doing fine. The frostbite…will take me longer to heal. Hers is one of the worst cases I've seen in a long time. Honestly, I'm surprised she's alive."

Lily was either too out of it, or simply did not care, for she did not respond to this statement.

The drive to Ilena's flat—a decision made without discussion—took less time than either Peter or Ilena predicted. Ilena clearing the path for him kept Peter from having to drive slowly. He nearly floored it, desperate to get both girls safe.

When they arrived, Peter opened the back door. Shifting Lily from her arms to Peter's, Ilena hurried up the porch. A bloody stain striped down the backseat where she had been sitting. Ilena didn't bother with her keys. Her eyes drifted down the rows of houses. No one to see. Magically she undid the lock and stepped aside, letting Peter and Lily in.

"The back bedroom," Ilena instructed him, holding the door open.

At the south side of the flat was Ilena's guest room. A queen bed took up the majority of the space, with just enough left over for a side table with a lamp on it. Pulling back the covers, Peter laid Lily down on the mattress. She bristled as his touch left her.

"The heater's in the study," Ilena said, shutting the plum curtains and turning the lamp on. He made to leave. "And Peter," she added. "Water from the kitchen, please."

He nodded and walked to the study. He'd been to Ilena's flat numerous times. Every so often they'd have a meal in, or just sit around and talk. The walls were mostly bare, the furnishings plain. The only place that radiated life was the kitchen, where Ilena had erected a few paintings of Narnian landscapes and painted the walls a soft yellow.

The study contained a single desk, propped against the far wall beneath a window. A few papers and pens decorated the top. A fern sat in the corner. To the right of the desk rested the heater. Playing around with some of the buttons, he cranked up the temperature and then snuck into the kitchen. Searching through her cupboards, he located a large serving bowl. He turned the knob of the faucet and waited for water.

"Pipes are frozen," he called out when nothing was forthcoming.

Suddenly water surged from the tap, nearly making him jump back. Ilena had defrosted the pipes. He filled the bowl to the brim, slapped a towel over his shoulder and carefully made his way back to the bedroom, doing his best to not spill.

Ilena sat in the bed with Lily, clutching the shuddering girl to her frame. Four blankets were piled on them, as well as Peter and Ilena's coats. All the cover didn't do much good; Lily continued whimpering.

"On the table, please."

The water dipped as he did as she requested. Peter said, "Any better?"

"Yes. I've healed her minor cuts and bruises. But the rest is tricky. Hypothermia is unique in that its response to my powers varies by individual case. I can only heal what's on the surface, and the problem lies in her nerves. Depending on how deep it is, I can sometimes make it go away completely. Other times, it's just too much."

Peter waited for the diagnosis.

"Her hands will most likely be fine. I did preliminary work on them in the car, so they should be all right. Her feet, however… I may not be able to do much."

"How did you find her?"

Ilena stroked the back of Lily's head, her hands closing on one of her fingers. A white glow shimmered and Lily began screaming in agony. "I felt her mind's whispers in the restaurant. When I went out to look for her, I found her cowering under a minotaur. She lost her head when she saw me. I killed him and deposited her somewhere safe, out of harm's way. Then I came back for you."

Moving to the second finger, Ilena repeated the procedure. From where he stood, Peter could clearly see Lily's pointer finger, a healthy pink. "Sorry," Ilena whispered as Lily screeched. To Peter, she said, "The process is extremely painful. You don't have to watch, if you don't want to."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine, then you can make yourself useful." Her eyes went to the towel he wore. "Pat her head with water. Because she's been outside in the cold, she's very sick. Her head is burning up, even though the rest of her is freezing."

Peter soaked the towel and got on the bed. Lily's yells of pain were muffled by another towel clenched in her teeth. Brushing the sopping fabric against her temples, he realized Ilena was right. Lily's forehead blazed like an inferno.

By now, Ilena had moved onto Lily's other hand. Natural color returned to her fingers.

"How did she get here?" Peter asked over the sound of Lily's sobs. The noise tore at his heartstrings, and he made sure her entire brow was covered by the towel.

"I don't know. How did the minotaur get here? They must have arrived together, though I can't imagine how. When Aslan created Narnia, he explicitly shut off the two worlds from each other. Your guess is as good as mine."

Finishing with her hands, Ilena set to work on Lily's feet. Her toes looked withered and dead. Shiny purple and black, Peter looked away, cringing at the sight. "Here we go," Ilena said, taking a toe in her hands.

Lily went crazy. Before she'd just been screaming—now she was thrashing to be free. Her hand collided with Peter's face and he saw stars.

"Hold her still, Peter," Ilena grunted, pouring everything she had into Lily's nerves.

Trying to grab Lily was like trying to latch onto a greased seal. The girl coiled and bent in all directions, eyes fixedly shut, teeth clamped down so hard, that if there was no towel, she would have broken her teeth and bit off her tongue.

The whole ordeal took upwards of a half hour, though it seemed much longer. The silence when Ilena finished felt creepy and foreboding. In the end, Ilena saved all of Lily's limbs. Finally warm, the girl collapsed exhausted against Ilena, who laid her down against the pillow and pulled the covers and blankets around her.

"She'll have to burn off the fever," Ilena said, standing, offering Peter his coat.

"Careful!" Peter cautioned as the Avella stumbled. He grabbed her around the middle, steadying her. A fresh wave of panic embraced him as he touched blood. Together they hobbled out of the bedroom, Ilena gripping him for support.

"You're still hurt."

Ilena nodded and allowed him to help her to the living room, where he eased her down on the brown sofa. Her eyes were glazed over. Blurry. Clearly, healing Lily had taken a lot out of her.

"I'm fine," she stressed when she noticed his watchful, worried eyes. "Just tired. I wasn't joking when I said that was one of the worst hypothermia cases I've ever seen. But Lily survived, so that's all that matters."

"Do you have enough energy to heal yourself?"

"After I rest," Ilena nodded.

"Not good enough." He inspected the room. "Do you have a first aid kit?" She pointed to the nearby bathroom. Her cupboard was a mixture of feminine and general hygiene products. He had to dig through a pile of lotions and shampoo bottles to find the kit, all the while trying to ignore how good the room smelled. Just like Ilena.

Cleaning the wound proved easy. With her high tolerance for pain, Ilena scarcely moved, did not yell out. Wrapping, however, was another story. He'd just barely started taping when his hand swept across something it shouldn't have. She sucked in some air.

"Your shoulder is dislocated," he said. How he had missed it before, he wasn't sure. It stuck out at an odd angle.

"Can you push it back in?"

"Yes."

_Crunch_. The sound made a lump grow in his throat. Ilena didn't react.

Peter finished wrapping the wound up, snaking it around her shoulder and beneath the straps of her dress. Once done, he leaned forward and impulsively kissed her shoulder, like his mother did to him as a child. "There, all better."

Seeing her all bandaged up, he marveled at how positively normal she looked. During the Cantrical war, she would go, sometimes days at a time, without sleep, blood crusted over her skin. A warrior. Not now.

"Thanks," Ilena said gratefully.

Peter went to the kitchen to wash his hands, returned the first aid kit to its place in the bathroom, and then plopped down on the cushion beside her. She leaned in, her head on his shoulder. "Do you want me to get something for the pain?" he asked, remembering when his own shoulder had been dislocated during the fight with Miraz.

"No, I'm not hurting. I'm just…lost."

"What do you mean?"

"As an Avella, I know more about Narnia than most people have the right to. I've been part of it since the beginning. I could rattle off dates, battles, nomad groups, tree clans, monarchies, tyrants, treacheries, boat names, fashion trends, you name it. But I could not tell you how those minotaurs, or Lily for that matter, got through the barrier. Not knowing scares me," she admitted.

"Maybe Aslan sent them here. He's always transporting people back and forth."

"But I usually sense that." She tapped her finger impatiently on her thigh. "I usually can sense when people are brought over to either place. And I haven't felt anything. I latched onto Lily's presence by pure luck. If I hadn't felt her clomping through the snow I wouldn't have known she was here."

"Can the other Avellas sense people?"

"Yes, of course th-" Ilena's eyes went wide.

"Ilena?" Peter said.

Ilena didn't hear him, caught up in some light bulb moment. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that before? Assuming of course he can still fade. If not, then I'll have to get in touch with Quinn. He might know something. He's usually around here during the winter months. Unless he co—"

Peter seized her face in his hands and steered her in front of him. "Ilena, what are you going on about?"

She beamed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I have an idea."


	3. Midnight Promises

**3 – Midnight Promises**

* * *

"So, how'd it go?" Edmund asked the split-second Peter opened the door to their bedroom. The lights were off, so Peter squinted to see him.

"Do you really want to know?" Peter said, flicking the switch. The bulbs overhead crackled to life. Edmund hissed, throwing his hands over his eyes. Closing the door, Peter dragged himself to his bed and crumpled onto it, face down. Every inch of him prickled; a type of tenderness he knew wouldn't swiftly fade away.

"That bad?" Edmund peered through his fingers. "God, Peter, I told you not to order anything with garlic in it."

Muffled laughter. "I _wish _that was all that went wrong."

Edmund quit the act, hearing real depression in his brother's voice. "She said no?" When Peter didn't deny it, Edmund dropped his hands. "Oh. I'm sorry, Pete. But, you know, there are other fish in the sea."

"That," Peter snapped, so put off by the statement his head actually revolved around to scowl at Edmund, "is the worst analogy I've ever heard. She didn't say _no_. She just didn't say _yes_. I didn't get the chance to ask her."

"Why not?"

"We were attacked by minotaurs."

Edmund's jaw tumbled. "Wait…what?"

"We were attacked by minotaurs," Peter repeated. "I took Ilena out, we danced, started talking-everything was going perfectly. I was about to ask her when she felt something outside. Lo and behold, minotaurs down on Stephen Lane."

"But…how?"

Peter shrugged. "No idea. Ilena doesn't know either." Rolling over, he detailed the night, right up to bandaging Ilena's wound. He left out Lily's name, referring to her as just some girl on her death bed. He knew Edmund and his temper and didn't want to wake the whole house when the Just King blew up at the state of his dear friend. Until she felt better, Peter would keep his mouth shut concerning her identity.

Edmund let out a low, quiet whistle. "So much for a romantic date."

"So much for a romantic date," Peter agreed. "Like I said, it was going well up until that point. I can honestly say I've never been angry when it comes to anything Narnian before tonight."

"Well, it's not your only chance. You can always ask her tomorrow. It is Christmas day, after all. Good cheer and all that. Maybe she'll get sappy like a normal girl."

"There is nothing about Ilena that is normal." Just as these words left his lips, the clock in the dining room sounded off. Twelve bangs echoed through the house. Peter stiffened, rising. "Speaking of Ilena, she'll be here in fifteen minutes. You might want to change."

"Why is she coming here? Don't you two get enough of each other snogging on her couch?"

"Ha ha," Peter said humorously. "No, she's coming over because she thinks she might know someone who can answer our questions, and she wants us to be there when he comes. _All _of us."

Edmund proffered his hands as a shield. Shaking his head, he murmured, "Oh no. I'm not waking Susan up. That little joy is all yours." Susan, the deepest sleeper in the family, did not take too kindly to her brothers shaking her conscious. An ironic thing considering she had no trouble bothering the boys when she deemed it necessary.

"Fine," Peter gave in. "I suppose after a minotaur I should be able to handle Susan's wrath."

Edmund snorted. "Fat chance."

The next ten minutes zipped by as Edmund dressed himself in the warmest clothes he could find, and Peter crept down the hall to Susan and Lucy's bedroom. Deep, rhythmic inhales and exhales greeted him as he turned the knob and stepped in. Trying to be kind, he kept the lights off and approached Lucy's sleeping form.

"Lu," he whispered in her ear. She swatted at him, slumbering on. "Lucy," he said more insistently. Blearily, she cracked open an eyelid.

"What?" she asked, recognizing him in the darkness.

"I need you to get up and put some heavy clothes on."

"Why?" A true example of their relationship, she didn't dive back under the covers and tell him to get out. She sat up, yawning, stretching like a cat. "What is it?"

"Narnia business."

In a rush, she climbed off her bed and streaked for her closet, doing her best to keep the hinges from creaking as she opened it. Garments soared through the air as she searched for something to combat the cold. Peter hadn't told her where they were going, but she assumed by his request it wasn't anywhere down south.

A blouse flung over Peter's head, hitting Susan. A small noise of surprise rippled from her throat and she turned on her side, eyes firmly shut. It took several beats for Peter to work up the courage to hover over her. Even then, he had to gulp down his anxiety to reach out and touch her arm.

Few things scared him more than an angry Susan.

"Susan," Peter said, trying to keep the strain out of his tone. "Get up."

She didn't move. Peter internally groaned, exasperated. So it had to be like that. He put pressure on her now, squeezing her bicep hard enough to rouse her, but not enough to cause her pain. "Susan!"

Her head bent back and sleepy eyes took him in. "Peter," she garbled, her voice hoarse by the night air. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Go back to bed." She rolled back atop her pillow.

"Susan," Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. You need to get up. There's trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" she said, no genuine concern or interest evident.

How different his two sisters were, Peter thought. Lucy came alive when asked to help; Susan…didn't. The way he saw it, though, Susan hadn't struck him yet. He might as well continue prodding her until she got up. They were needed.

"Narnia trouble." Under normal circumstances, he never would have condoned it. But this was an emergency, and Susan refused to budge. His fingers found the sensitive part of her waist and he tickled her, backing up almost at once in case she lashed out. He'd received one too many kicks to the groin from her as a child. All accidental, of course.

She laughed, her limbs fighting against her cage of covers. Her mirth subsided almost at once and she rounded on him, spitting venom. "Peter Pevensie, you did not just do that. I should ring your neck right now for disturbing people in the middle of the night."

"You're not sounding very gentle, Susan," Peter observed, right as Lucy bounded up behind him, covered from head to toe in jackets, long pants (the two pairs she owned) and snow boots.

"Is this all right?" she inquired, pinching at the puffy material of her outer shell.

"Perfect."

"I'm sorry," Susan said, rubbing her eyes and staring at Lucy like she was looking at an alien, "But are we going somewhere? Surely Narnia can wait until morning."

"Not this time," Peter clipped, checking his watch. Ilena would be on the porch any second. "We're meeting someone and we've only got a short while to speak with him. He's a busy man."

"Is it someone we know?" Lucy hung onto his arm, all previous signs of exhaustion gone.

Peter shook his head. "You'll have to wait and see." Casting one final threatening look at Susan, he left their room and tip-toed to the front of the house. Dark shadows obstructed everything from his view. His right foot hit the coffee table. _Bang_. His boot did little to weaken the blow, and he had to bite down a curse, remembering his mother was still asleep—well, hopefully still asleep after the loud impact.

Outside on the porch, just as they had scheduled, Ilena stood watching the street, her arms crossed. The blue dress from earlier was gone, replaced by dark pants and a green long-sleeved shirt. The practical ponytail once more held her hair in place.

"Everyone up?" she said, gliding past him and into the black residence.

Peter nodded invisibly. "Yes. And you owe me. I had to wake Susan."

"So long as all your important parts are still intact, I think you'll live," she quipped. Taking Peter's hand, the pair meandered their way to Peter and Edmund's bedroom. Edmund thankfully had finished dressing. Minutes after they arrived, Lucy and Susan joined them, Susan not looking peachy in the least.

"Now that we're all here, do you mind giving us a bit more information?" Edmund broke the silence, thrusting a hat down over his ears.

Ilena nodded and spoke, condensing the story down to the bare minimum. Through her eyes, the night's events took on new meaning—Peter used play-by-play action, whereas Ilena delved deeper, into possible meanings behind the attack.

"I've no further information," she finished, jerking her head to the ceiling, sensing something they did not. "Forces are at play that I cannot identify. One thing I've learned, though, is: if it can happen once, it can happen again. This was just one occurrence. There could be more. Which is why we are up so late; I need to speak with a friend and hear his side, if he has one."

"Who is this friend?"

Peter avoided Ilena's sideways glance at him. "You didn't tell them?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

She shook her head, amazed. "All right, well, who am I to argue?" Again, her eyes flashed upward. "Now, enough talk. This person is on a tight schedule, and if we stand around any longer we'll miss him."

On a corner of the house, a rain spout ran up to the roof. Under Ilena's guidance, the five of them scaled it. Edmund went first. The metal didn't offer much support; ice clung to it, making it slippery. Ilena melted this and cleared away the water, but still Edmund thanked his mother for buying him such thick gloves. The metal was freezing. Perched at the top, he then proceeded to help Susan and Lucy, Peter on the ground giving them a leg up. Peter turned to Ilena last.

"If it'll make you happy," she conceded, allowing him to stretch up and hoist her to the roof's edge. Edmund caught her hand and lugged her over the side. "I could have just climbed up, or jumped," she added when Peter joined her.

"You have to let me be gallant sometimes," he reminded her, wiping his hands off on his pants.

Edmund shoved his hands in his coat's pockets and said, "Your friend really could have chosen a better place to meet."

"Sadly, he doesn't have a lot of options. Tradition dictates it." Ilena cleared the roof of snow and lessened the chill in the air. In her everyday clothes, her body free of shivering, the Pevensies sincerely envied her tie to nature. Not the cold, nor the rain, nor the humid summer months ever bothered her.

For perhaps five minutes they stood there, watching the heavens overhead for any signs of whatever was coming. From their height, all the pretty lights and decorations of Christmas were visible, adding just a little splendor to their otherwise uncomfortable state. Pale moonlight glowed overhead.

"Right on time," Ilena said. Five pairs of eyes shot to the north, where something rocketed across the moon, headed straight for them. "You might want to step back," she cautioned the siblings.

The warning proved to be a good one as, without ceremony, a huge vehicle careened toward them. It touched down on the roof without a sound, despite its ferocious speed only seconds before. From the driver's seat a man jumped out. A joyful smile spread his cheeks.

"Santa!" Lucy cried.

Santa—though he preferred Father Christmas—bowed his head in acknowledgment. He stripped his hands of his mittens and addressed them, "Happy Christmas."

Reindeer snorted at the front of the sleigh, hooves clattering against the roof tiles. When Father Christmas gave his consent, Lucy went to pet them, speaking words of comfort. They recognized her, bucking their heads into her palm happily.

The last time Peter, Susan and Lucy saw Father Christmas, the White Witch dominated over Narnia. The tools he had given them had proved their worth a million times over since that fateful day. Peter felt a pang of sorrow for his sword, lost somewhere in the mystical land.

"Nick," Ilena welcomed him, throwing out all formality. To her, he was an Avella. An equal.

"Ilena," he took her hands in his, holding them together and shaking them merrily, "I can honestly say I am surprised to see you. News of your permanent living in this world spread like wildfire following your leave, but I didn't expect to find you on a roof. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Have you felt it? The stirring?" Compared to Father Christmas, Ilena was all business—a rare sight considering how sarcastic she could be.

Father Christmas settled, his brow furrowing, all spirit gone. "Yes. When I crossed over, something happened to my sleigh." He gestured to the vehicle. Several wide gashes, scorched black, ran the length of the side.

"Have you tried crossing back?"

Father Christmas nodded gravely. "Yes, I tried almost at once, but found I couldn't. A dark magic prevented me from returning to Narnia. I assume you've been having the same difficulties?"

"Yes. I am unable to fade back." Ilena sat down on the pedestal surrounding the chimney stack. "But there are more pressing matters than my inability to travel. Things from Narnia are appearing in this world. I don't mean Avellas, but magical creatures and people."

Father Christmas put his hands on his hips. His beard fell to his waist, and he was dressed in a deep green coat lined with fur, festive and jolly. So very different from the Santa painted by children on Earth, yet all the more regal because of it. "I shall not pretend to know the cause of any of this. It worries me."

"Any news of Aslan?" Peter chimed in. "He would know."

Father Christmas replied no.

"Not surprising," Ilena said, tracing the stars overhead with her eyes. "Aslan comes and turns the tide when the other side thinks it's won. I can safely say things will have to get a lot worse before he'll show."

"But you're Avellas," Susan exclaimed, her patience spent. She was still crabby from having to get up. "Shouldn't you have some…I don't know…some connection to him? Can't you call him to us?"

Ilena laughed and Father Christmas smiled. "He's not a dog that will come running," said Ilena. "And as for that connection…it's like us," and she indicated Father Christmas. "We always know the other is out there and can occasionally feel where the other might be, but we don't share a solid link through our minds all the time. Only when needed. Aslan is the same way; I know he's out there. I can feel it. His exact location, though, is uncertain."

"I'm afraid, Your Majesty," Father Christmas agreed, "we have no control over whether Aslan comes or not."

"Besides," Ilena cut in, "we'd hardly be doing the jobs he appointed us if we had to come running to him every five seconds for help. He's doing enough as it is. The last thing he needs is to be worrying over petty problems."

"I wouldn't call those minotaurs petty problems," Peter muttered.

"So if we can't get a hold of Aslan," Edmund started, "and neither of you know what's going on and why, how are we to get to the bottom of this?"

Father Christmas stroked the reindeer nearest him, in thought. Ilena didn't budge from her seat.

"The Whispering Glen would be a good place to start," Ilena finally said. "If something's severed the connection point between Narnia and Earth, the Whispering Glen will reveal some answers."

"A trip there would be well worth the time," Father Christmas concurred.

"What's the Whispering Glen?" Lucy asked, returning to the circle. "Is that in Narnia?"

Ilena mused, "I forget how little you four know about your country."

Father Christmas sent her a look, telling her not to be patronizing, but it did no good. Ilena was who she was. Kindly, he explained, "No. Well, yes, but no at the same time, Your Majesty. Do you remember the wardrobe that sent you to Narnia the first time? The wood used to create that object came from a tree in the Whispering Glen. It is a magical place with no definite location that brings the planes of this world and all others together. Few have ever seen it. Aslan created it when he created the Avellas. It serves as the primary gateway for our travels."

"If anything has affected the Glen," Ilena continued for him, "it could be the reason for our grounding here. The basis for the Avellas' powers stems from the prosperity of the land. Nick and I have been there many times; although the last time was over two thousand years ago. It is beyond words."

"Can we go there?" Edmund said. Seeing all eyes turn to him, he cleared his throat. "I mean, for the good of Narnia."

Father Christmas and Ilena debated a silent conversation with their eyes. "I'm not sure, Your Majesty," Father Christmas said. "No being apart from Aslan and the Avellas has ever set foot in the Glen. The trip might kill you."

"Kill us?"

"I'm thoroughly against being killed," Edmund announced.

"Mortals such as yourselves do not take well to too much magic in your systems. Being exposed to it for healing purposes is one thing; simply basking in it because you can is another thing entirely. It might be too much for your bodies to handle. You could go mad," Ilena said thoughtfully, hand under her chin. "With a blessing, though, it might be possible."

"And I suppose what we find will be worth the potentiality of us going insane?"

"Ed," Peter nudged him in the side. "If you're too scared to go, you can stay here with Mum."

"So we are going?" Susan yawned. "If we are, can we please wait until morning?"

"Hold up," Ilena broke in. "I never said we were actually going. I just said the Whispering Glen would be a good starting point. Neither Nick nor I can fade at the moment. There are other ways to get there, it's true, but it takes a lot of energy. Any trip we plan on taking would have to wait until he and I are ready to attempt such a thing."

"For Narnia," Lucy said. "We have to."

"Am I seriously the only one concerned that we might lose our heads?" Edmund said.

Father Christmas stroked his beard. "Ilena, I'm not sure we could do it alone." At her challenging expression, he chuckled. "I forget, you always were the naughty one."

"What, her?" Peter raised both eyebrows.

"Oh, yes. She used to get into all kinds of trouble in the early days. Turning people into flowers, flooding tea parties. One time she set a man's hair on fire. Aslan set it right in the end, and the man sustained no injuries, bless his heart."

Peter couldn't believe his ears. Ilena had her faults to be sure, as well as a devilish sense of humor. But lighting hair on fire? Flooding tea parties? Where had that wicked, playful side of her disappeared to in the last four thousand years? One look at her answered this. Oh, yes. Sylas.

"That last one was an accident," Ilena shot an accusing finger at Father Christmas. "He got in the way of my spell when I was trying to help out some fauns with their tea. And his hair grew back fine."

"Still, child," Father Christmas said. Looks-wise he had fifty years on her, but age-wise, she outdid him. "I'd feel better if we rallied some help. The more of us, the better."

Ilena played with the end of her ponytail. "Problem is, there aren't many of us here during the winter months. You because of Christmas, and I because I choose to be. But who else? Quinn, maybe. Aryanna…she is fickle. Her feelings drive her, so she might have chosen to remain in Narnia this year. Taven? Who knows what goes through that boy's head?"

"He has a good heart," Father Christmas scolded her.

"My point is," Ilena stood, crossing her arms, "relying on people who aren't here is stupid. There are a million reasons why we should not wait for them. For one, the longer we stand around and do nothing, the better chance of more inhabitants of Narnia ending up in this world. I can't imagine the people of England seeing a centaur or a talking animal and leaving it alone. They'll call the police, the newspapers, the television stations. The whole world will be in uproar.

"Second, once they cross over, they will not be able to fade back. It's happening to us, and it will happen to them. Narnia can't afford her entire line of defense packing up and going on holiday indefinitely.

"Third-"

Father Christmas stopped her. "You have thought this through, little one." Ilena nodded. "Your arguments are sound. I agree that we cannot wait for very long. Narnia needs us. Earth needs us. Avellas, and Kings and Queens of Old," he said, including the Pevensies.

"Yes," Ilena grinned.

"Nevertheless, I feel it in our best interest to contact Quinn, Aryanna, Taven and anyone else we can before moving forward. Keep doing it ourselves as a last resort."

Crest-fallen, Ilena padded to the edge of the roof. Her blank façade still baffled Peter enormously, but he had become more proficient at reading her over the last year. From the settled pinch of her shoulders, he could tell she was frustrated. At Father Christmas. At her powers failing. At not knowing.

"Fine," she said. "We'll wait. But if we cannot get in touch with them by a week from tomorrow—technically, today—I want your word that we will then try it ourselves."

"Fair enough," Father Christmas said. "I pray to the constellations we encounter a bit of luck. Now, I have been here far too long and am running late. There are still millions of houses to visit, millions of presents to deliver. Goodness knows, Christmas in Narnia felt like it would never come. I must be off."

Lucy plowed her way between Susan and Peter, wrapping her arms around Father Christmas's waist. "You won't forget us, will you?"

"Your Majesty, never. Rest assured there will be presents beneath your tree and in your stockings tomorrow. But only if you go to sleep." He kissed the crown of her head and returned to the sleigh. Gathering the reins, he called out to his steeds, "Ready? Comet, don't chew on Cupid's ear. Dasher, stop fidgeting." Dasher snorted. Father Christmas chortled to himself. "Reindeer. You wouldn't think it, but they have hefty attitudes."

"I shall inform you if I come across any of the others," Ilena told him. She had softened long enough to say goodbye.

"I wish you luck, child. We all need it." Whipping the reins, he brought them down with a snap. "Hah!" The reindeer hopped on their hooves and stampeded off the roof. Up into the air the sleigh climbed. Father Christmas waved at them, shouting, "Happy Christmas." In response, Ilena sent a flush of air beneath the reindeer, coaxing them higher into the night sky.

"Happy Christmas, sir!" Lucy hollered, waving back.

Soon, the little sleigh and the eight tiny reindeer were gone.

"I love my life," Edmund said softly.

"So, we're going? To the Glen?" said Peter.

"Nick and I are. You…perhaps." His outraged face made her roll her eyes. "It all depends on how many Avellas we can gather. The more there are, the more energy, the better chance we have of getting you there in one piece. When I said there are other ways to get there, I didn't indicate they were easy ways."

"What is the Whispering Glen like?" Lucy asked.

"Maybe you'll see it for yourself."

Susan yawned again. "Well, now that that's straightened out, can I go back to sleep? Don't get me wrong, I'm worried about Narnia and the fate of the world and everything. But if there's nothing else to accomplish at the moment, I'd really rather be back in bed."

"But I'm not sleepy," Lucy whined in the middle of her own yawn.

"We're done for tonight," Ilena said.

The Pevensies and she lowered themselves from the roof and snuck back in the house. Mrs. Pevensie was still asleep, blissfully unaware of her children's nighttime activities. Peter and Edmund bid Susan and Lucy goodnight, Peter chauffeuring Ilena to the door.

"Nice try, boy wonder," Ilena said when Peter wanted to walk her home. "I'm adept enough to make it there in one piece." She kissed him, and skipped down the front steps and sidewalk. Peter watched her go until the streetlights in the distance grew too dim to see her.

Edmund was already snoring by the time he returned to their bedroom. Peter kicked off his shoes, stripped his suit's jacket off and fell into bed without changing. Questions plagued his mind, but he dismissed them, asleep before his head touched his pillow.


	4. Happy Christmas

**4 – Happy Christmas**

* * *

The next day, Peter came to the dismal conclusion that he was not a morning person. Light violently hit his face; he groaned, rolling onto his stomach, and yanked his pillow over his head. It buffered the intensity of the sun, but did nothing to help him fall back asleep. Once awake, he was awake for good.

"Edmund," he said, peeking through the tiny slit separating the pillow from the mattress.

Across from him, Edmund slept on, completely unperturbed. Every limb hung off the sides of his bed. Heavy snores rumbled from deep within his chest.

"Edmund!" Peter said again, a bit more loudly. Taking aim, he flung his pillow at his younger brother. It hit Edmund's arm and ricocheted off, landing on the floor. Edmund didn't stir.

Bracing himself for the barrage of resistance his body would give, Peter sat up. Joints snapped and his spine crackled with a horrific sound. Peter winced. He felt like he supported several tons on his shoulders, tightly coiled from sleep.

"Edmund, get up." If he had to be up, so did his brother. Satisfied with this logic, Peter lacked any remorse as he approached his brother's limp form and ripped his sheets back.

"GAHHHHH!" Edmund screamed, his hands flying up to cover his body.

Peter snickered. "It's not like you're sleeping nude, Ed. Now get up."

"What," Edmund demanded, snatching his covers back and burying himself in them, "was that for?"

"Have you forgotten?" Peter said. "It's Christmas morning. Believe me, I want to sleep in as much as you do. But if we don't get up now, Mum will suspect something. Up." This time he grabbed hold of Edmund's bed frame and lifted it. Edmund spiraled to the wooden floorboards, landing prostrate.

"Ugh," Edmund moaned, prying himself up. He rolled out of the way as Peter returned the bed to normal. "Is it too late to return you? I mean, how did I end up with you as a brother?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Peter mused. Treading lightly, he opened his drawers and began ruffling through the clothes inside. A few years ago Peter would not have given a second thought to his wardrobe. Clothes were clothes. But now he wanted to look decent.

Ilena was coming over later.

"Not the word I would have used," Edmund retorted. Watching Peter take a crack at getting his hair to lie flat, he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she won't care if you have a hair out of place. She's seen you far worse."

"When a girl takes pity on you and becomes your girlfriend, then come talk to me, Ed," Peter said; he gave his bangs one last flick, then set the brush down and pulled on his boots.

He met Susan in the hallway. Shuffling by, she shook her head at his good morning, the dark bands under her eyes hinting at her sour mood. A tired Susan meant a wary Peter. He sluggishly followed her into the drawing room, not daring to ask if she could move faster. Inside, Lucy sat on the sofa, finishing up her drawing from the night before.

"Happy Christmas," she greeted both her siblings, setting her pencil down. Graphite dusted her fingers.

"Happy Christmas, Lu," Peter responded.

Susan nodded languidly.

"Lucy," Mrs. Pevensie's voice came from the kitchen. Her head poked out of the opening; catching sight of Susan and Peter, she added, "Peter, Susan. All of you, please, wash your hands. Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes. Where is Edmund?"

"Just getting up," Peter said.

Mrs. Pevensie sighed. "Only Edmund. Well, when he comes out, tell him to wash as well." To Lucy, she said, "Darling, don't sit like that. You'll rumple your dress. Look, you already have pencil smeared all over your hands. Don't touch anything."

"Yes, Mum," Lucy said, shaking her head when Mrs. Pevensie disappeared back into the delightful array of smells. "You would think I was five years old."

"She just wants everything to be perfect," Susan said, surprising Lucy and Peter. They thought for sure she would be mute until after she got some food in her. "For when Ilena comes over later."

"Ilena doesn't care about that," Lucy stated.

Susan shrugged. "But Mum does."

Just then, Edmund made his grand entrance. "Smells good," he observed, sniffing the air. He plopped down on the cushion next to Peter. "I miss anything?"

"Just Mum's nagging."

"I heard that," Mrs. Pevensie called out; Lucy, Edmund and Peter giggled. Susan cracked a small smile.

Getting up to wash, the Pevensie children made their way to the bathroom. Lucy had barely turned the faucet when the door bell chimed. Four sets of eyes went to the clock, which read: 8:32.

"She's a bit early, isn't she?" asked Edmund.

Ilena was scheduled to come over at ten o'clock, after all the bedlam of Christmas morning subsided. An hour and half early seemed a bit much for how punctual she was.

"A bit," Peter agreed, wondering what in the world could prompt her to arrive so prematurely. Checking his reflection, he stumbled out of the small bathroom at Lucy's push and claim he was hogging the mirror and walked to the front of the house. He took a deep breath before opening the door.

"Hello, Peter."

Eyes went wide and his jaw plummeted at what met him. Surely…no, there was no way….how could this…

Somehow he fumbled out, "D-Dad. What…what are you doing here?"

"That's a different sort of welcome," Mr. Pevensie chuckled, grasping Peter's shoulders and shifting him out of the way so he could enter the foyer. He wore a tattered jacket, an assortment of cuts and bruises, and graying hair. He smiled down at his eldest son, every bit the loving person Peter remembered. "It's an entertaining story, actually. One I'd love to share with everyone. In the meantime, however, I will reveal that I had the help of someone who claims to know you. Peter, please tell me where you found this charming young lady." When Mr. Pevensie sidled back, Ilena appeared, smiling hesitantly.

"Ilena," Peter acknowledged her. "How-"

"I'm sure he'll explain everything." She, too, stepped into the house. Peter closed the door behind her.

"So you do know each other," Mr. Pevensie grinned. To Ilena, he said, "That I shall. I wouldn't be here if not for you. Thank you." Swinging back around, he crept away from her and Peter and into the kitchen. The silence lasted for approximately ten seconds, and then Mrs. Pevensie's shout of joy echoed out.

"How did—" Peter tried again.

"Don't ask questions," Ilena said.

"But—"

"Peter," she said, taking his hand in hers and looking him in the eyes. "Don't. Just… If I tell you, it will lose its magic. Please? In the spirit of the holidays? This is my Christmas present to you."

"Your…"

"Peter."

Peter's mouth formed silent words, his brain attempting to process everything. Mr. Pevensie was here. Home. He'd come back. In fact, he stood in the other room this very moment. Without abashment, Peter grabbed Ilena and kissed her long and hard, his hands curving around her waist.

"Mmm," Ilena laughed against his lips. Sliding her hand between their chests, she eased him back. "I take it you're happy?"

"More than you will ever know," he agreed. "Thank you. Thank you," he repeated, making sure she looked him in the eyes as he said it. "I can't…wow."

"Peter!" Edmund yelled from the other room. "Get in here!"

Curving his hand with Ilena's, Peter rushed into the kitchen. His family huddled in a tangled clump of limbs, all grasping for Mr. Pevensie. Mrs. Pevensie's eyes were shining, as tear after tear poured down her cheeks. Susan sobbed into Edmund's shoulder, and Edmund, for once, didn't seem to mind. He had both arms strung around Mr. Pevensie in a tight hug. At the center of the mass was Lucy, hidden from view by the tall adults wrapped around her. Peter attempted to drag Ilena into the fray, but she tugged herself out of his touch.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's not my place. He's your father."

"But—"

"Peter, I spent the last thirty minutes with him. I'm fine. Go." She shoved him forward and he landed on top of Susan.

"There's my boy," Mr. Pevensie said, laughing. Wet droplets clung to his eyelashes.

The next five minutes consisted of sobbing, laughing, and hugging. They were a family together again for the first time in years. The war had reaped its carnage on them, but still they had pulled through.

"Miss Ilena," Mr. Pevensie called out, noticing the girl standing off to the side. "Please, join us! I am the happiest man alive right now. Come, come."

Ilena's uncomfortable expression spoke volumes. She didn't want to intrude. But at Mr. Pevensie's urging, and Peter's outstretched hand and pleading smile, she accepted his offer and linked herself to their group. Next to him, Peter felt her stiffen, not liking the amount of arms touching her, nor the close proximity. She trusted Peter, but still had difficulty with others, even his siblings from time to time.

Gently, he withdrew his hand from Susan's shoulders and wrapped it around Ilena's. Catching her eye, he kissed her, this time gently, on the cheek. She closed her eyes, grinning and melded into his side.

And with that, Peter realized his family had never before felt so complete.

OOOOO

"Happy Christmas," Ilena said hours later, sitting down next to Edmund on the step separating the hallway of bedrooms from the rest of the house. Edmund jumped; he hadn't heard her coming.

"Happy Christmas," he replied, enfolding his legs in his arms, hugging them to his chest. Curiosity prickled at the back of his mind; he and Ilena weren't exactly close. Sure, they were…well, friends wasn't the right word. She fit better with Peter and Lucy. Comrades, perhaps, brought together by their love for Narnia. He wondered what could prompt her to come see him specifically.

Ilena followed his line of vision. On the sofa, Lucy and Mr. Pevensie sat, speaking animatedly to one another. "Your father is a good man," she said.

"I know," Edmund nodded.

"I thought bringing him would be a nice surprise."

Mr. Pevensie had explained how Ilena found him and a few fellow soldiers on the side of the road, the truck bringing them home for their time of leave broken down and smoking slightly. According to him, she was just walking along when she found them. At once she hastened to help and, much to the embarrassment of the men, fixed the problem. They were so grateful, they offered her a ride somewhere. Much to Mr. Pevensie's shock, her destination was the same as his.

Edmund doubted that the busted engine and Mr. Pevensie's leave were just a coincidence. Ilena had had some hand in it, he felt certain.

"It was."

"But he's not the only person I want everyone to meet." Tightening her ponytail, she clapped her hands together and tucked them neatly in her lap. "Specifically, I want you to meet. Can I borrow you for a little while, Edmund? I promise you won't regret it."

"Me?" His brow furrowed quizzically. "Why me?"

"None of the others will appreciate it the same way," Ilena said. "Only you will be able to help this person. They need you."

"What can I do?" Thoroughly bemused, he ran a hand through his dark hair. Some hidden meaning in her words kept eluding his understanding. Really, why him? He wasn't anything special. The role of aiding others usually fell to Peter, who charged in without thinking. Or Susan, who could pacify any situation with her words alone. Even Lucy's bright outlook did more than Edmund thought himself possible of achieving.

"You've been lost before. When you entered Narnia for the first time," she said, keeping her voice low, "you found yourself caught up in something almost impossible to deal with." At his hard expression, she added, "I'm not blaming you for what you did. Not at all. You did what you thought was right. But you cannot deny that you were lost in Narnia, with no one to guide you, can you?"

He shook his head.

"Well, this someone is in a similar boat. They have no idea what to do, no idea how to cope with what has happened to them. They need someone to talk to. Someone to listen to them. I'm not exactly the right one for the job. But you. You're that person, Edmund. You will be able to connect with this person in a way none of your siblings can."

"Who is this person?"

Ilena bit her lip. "You'll see soon enough. Will you come? Please?"

After a slight pause, Edmund nodded.

"Terrific."

OOOOO

Edmund didn't know what he had been expecting. A sullen little boy who had lost his toy in the snow, maybe. Or an old lady who couldn't reach the top shelf of her cabinet. Something along those lines. Of course, he should have known better. Normal problems weren't a usual happening in his life.

Still, he nearly doubled over in shock upon seeing the real reason Ilena needed him.

"I'll be in the backyard," Ilena instructed him. "I have a few things to take care of. When you're done, come find me and we'll talk." She shut the door, her footsteps fading away.

"Ehmun!" the shrill voice cried, and a red comet zoomed across his vision. It slammed him back against the door with a thud, attaching itself to his side.

He stood there, dumbfounded. "_Lily?_" he whispered, not believing what he was seeing. But he could not mistake that inferno of hair. His hands found her back and he suddenly was hugging her fiercely.

"Ehmun!" she said again, raising her head to look up at him. Sadly, she didn't look much better than the last time he'd seen her. Still sickly-thin, pale, and untamed. Her brown eyes, however, were alive with a spark he knew only too well from all the hours spent in the cell.

"I miss you," Lily told him, touching his nose with her index finger, just as she had done right before he left Narnia.

"I missed you," he choked out.

She buried her head into his chest, the action strangely intimate considering how removed they were in the past. Edmund couldn't deny something existed between them. He had felt it when they said goodbye, and felt it now. As though his veins coursed raw sunlight, not blood.

He didn't know what it meant.

"Lily, what are you doing here?" he asked, finally letting her go. She refused to release him from her hold, her hands clawing into his shirt. "_How _did you get here?"

She pursed her lips. "Light," she said, swinging one arm through the air to exaggerate. "Hurt everywhere. Wake up. Snow. Big animal!" She mimicked huge incisors with her fingers. "M-m…minotorro!"

"A minotaur?" Edmund corrected her. Ilena and Peter's story the previous night swam into consciousness. Dots began connecting. "You were attacked by a minotaur?" Rage blinded him. Ilena and Peter had kept this—had kept Lily—hidden from him. He'd deal with them later.

She nodded, her hair flying. "Mm, mm! Big axe! Lily run. Lost shoes. So cold. V-v…vera cold!"

"Very cold?" He sputtered, mind flying. "Did Ilena and Peter find you?"

"Mmm!" She pulled her hair up in imitation of Ilena's ponytail. "Find! Help! Lily toes! Still here." She pulled up her foot to show him, hopping on her other leg. "Still here!" she said gloriously, smiling from ear-to-ear.

Even in her current state, boney and flimsily dressed, Edmund thought she looked very pretty when she smiled.

"Still here…" he repeated. He nodded at her foot. "I see."

"Lily sleep long time. V-v-ver-vera warm here." She pointed excitedly at the bed behind her. The sheets were tangled and the pillow could be seen two feet away on the floor. "Bed! Lily bed!"

"You've never had a bed before?" Edmund surmised.

In answer, she clasped his wrist in her hand and hauled him to the mattress. They both sat and Lily laughed—an other-worldly sound. Edmund's heart grew fifty sizes in his chest.

"Lily," he said, "How long have you been here?"

"Uh," she said, fumbling with her fingers. Awkwardly, she raised her pointer finger. "Oooo-one."

"No, I don't mean in this house. I mean here, in my world."

"My world?" The concept puzzled her, but didn't stop her from trying to answer. "Many days. When flowers. When sun. No snow."

England wasn't a sunny place. Most often it rained, much to the annoyance of Edmund, who wanted to be outside. Not crammed in his bedroom. Flowers…flowers hadn't bloomed anew in Finchley for months. Which meant…

"Spring?" Over 9 months ago. Surely not… _But that would explain why she's so thin_, Edmund argued with himself. If she had spent the last 9 months on the streets with nowhere to go… Aslan, she was lucky to be alive.

"Spring! P-p-p-pretty."

Noting her speech, Edmund said in amazement, "Has someone been teaching you how to talk?" After the downfall of Sylas, the Cantricals went free. Before leaving, Caspian promised Edmund to help them as he could.

"Mmm!" Lily rolled across the bed and to the small side-table next to it. Directly in front of the lamp rested a slim book. Lily plucked it up and returned to his side, holding it out for him to take.

He did so, flipping open the pages. Bright pictures stared back at him. On average, each page sported between four and eight words.

"Teach Lily. Words. Read, write. Speak. Maria."

"Maria is teaching you?"

"Y-yes." By the wiggle of her lips, Edmund knew she struggled forming words. He also could tell she accepted that challenge and tried to do the best she could. "Teach Lily. Lily know vera words." Again, she flexed her fingers. "Many." And she touched each finger several times.

"You're learning maths, too?" He couldn't hide his surprise.

"M-maths." She counted her fingers again. A doubtful look crept onto her features. "Hard."

Edmund chuckled. "Yes, maths is hard. But..Lily… Aslan's mane, if you can speak and read... I'm sure you'll be amazing at maths in no time." Such a transformation. He couldn't believe it.

"Ehmun maths?"

"I like maths."

"Teach Lily?"

"Yes, I'll teach you."

OOOOO

It wasn't until after Edmund and Ilena returned, after supper had come and went, after carols had been sung and fleeting happy glances had been exchanged, that Peter finally achieved the quiet moment he'd been wishing for all day.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, closing the door to the house behind him. Inside, laughter spilled out into the night.

"Not at all," Ilena said, scooting over on the step. He sat next to her. She stared up at the starry sky, smiling. "I needed some time to myself."

"My family too much for you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "I love them, but after spending over a thousand years in solitude, the noise level gets to me. I can say, though, you've been blessed. I've never seen a happier family."

"On their good days." Swallowing his fear, Peter reached out and trapped Ilena's hand in his. "Ilena, I need to talk to you about something."

"Uh-oh," she said. "That's not something one likes to hear. It's usually followed by something bad." Matching his gaze, she pulled her hand out from under his, but he wouldn't let her go. "What did I do this time?"

"Nothing! Nothing," Peter assured her. "I promise. I just…I want to talk to you about something very serious."

"All right," she said suspiciously. "What is it?"

Gathering her other hand in his, he inhaled gradually. He'd practiced these words over and over and over again in his mind, to the point where he had perfected them. He could do this. He could do this. _Be brave, _he told himself.

Stroking her skin with his thumb, he stood. She watched him, eyes careful. He took one last ragged breath. He could do this. Shaking slightly, he dropped to one knee.

At once, Ilena moved away, her legs hitting the back of the step. Behind the settlement of her facial muscles, Peter sensed a tiny spasm. Lines creased across her forehead, and Peter knew her thoughts were going crazy.

"Ilena," Peter said, pressing a kiss to the back of one of her hands. "I love you. I love you so much. I don't know what I would do without you. You…you make me happier than I've ever been. I feel…I feel like I can finally live with you. Like these past few months have been from someone else's life. Like I'm not Peter the Magnificent, but just Peter the man. And it's ok. I will do anything to make you happy. I want to _be _the one to make you happy." Letting go of her, he pulled out the box safely tucked in his pocket. He flipped open the top, exposing the ring he'd chosen—the ring he'd agonized over finding for months, wanting it to be perfect—to her. "I ask you not as High King of Narnia, but as Peter, the man you love: Will you marry me?"

Ilena just stared.

Thinking she might be in shock, Peter waited. Part of him felt surprised. Had she honestly not seen this coming? A minute passed. He broke down. "Now would be a good time to say something," he whispered, all previous elation gone.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her grip on his hand grew tense. "Peter," she whispered back. Her other hand clutched the cobblestone step, her knuckles white. Eyes fidgeting to avoid his, she said, "I'm flattered, really I am. But—"

Peter's ears went deaf. Her lips kept forming words—words that refused to be said. Overhead, dark clouds obstructed the light of the pearly moon. The sparkle of her ring dimmed.

Had she…had she just….

Everything moved in slow motion.

"But…I…"

"That sounds like a no," he said, taken aback at his ability to speak. The observation tore free of his brain, trickling out of his mouth, hanging uneasily in the air. His propped knee deflated and his body crumpled.

She had.

"Peter," she whimpered. A faint tinge of red spotted the corners of her eyes. "Let me…let me explain." She swallowed. "I…can't. I mean…I want to. Believe me, I want to. I love you. But…"

"But what?"

Tears collected. She sniffed them back. Only once before had he seen her cry. She had been in insurmountable pain then. And she was in pain now. Dropping her gaze, she closed her eyes and sighed. "I can't. I…I need to think about this." She got to her feet, her hands slithering from his. "I can't…not now."

Peter's heart dropped. What was she saying? "Why?"

"Because there are so many things," she said, "that I would take away from you if I married you. And…I'm not…I'm not ready for this."

"No, seriously, why?" His tone was demanding now. This was one of those rare instances when he couldn't handle her inability to let him in. He needed a legitimate reason for the sorrow overtaking him.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Peter. I think I should go now." She fled into the house so quickly, Peter didn't have time to stop her.

Crickets chirped as he sat alone, his focus on the door and the ghost of her. He couldn't believe it. He thought…he thought she would say yes. After everything the last few days….after all they'd been through… How could she do anything but accept?

"ARGHHH!" Peter roared. He didn't realize until a few seconds after he'd done it that chucking the ring box across the yard was probably a bad idea. He couldn't think straight. His inside was hollow, but at the same moment, brimming with fury and sorrow.

The sorrow won out. Putting his head in his hands, he cried. How could one day start so wonderfully and end so terribly?

"Happy Christmas," he muttered to himself.


	5. Taven

**5 – Taven**

* * *

"You sure are acting odd," Lucy said, knocking against the door. She, Peter, and Edmund stood outside Ilena's flat, shivering.

"I'm fine," Peter lied. Wrapping his coat tighter around himself, he squared his shoulders and expelled a puff of white, hoping to alleviate some of the stress building inside him. Last night was still fresh in his mind. Sleep hadn't been an option following Ilena's self-dismissal.

"Leave him alone, Lu," Edmund said. He knew everything regarding why Peter acted so…vacant. "He's just tired. He can't handle Christmas anymore in his old age."

Peter ignored the charge.

Another minute passed and then the door opened. Father Christmas beamed at them, noting their bewildered expressions. "Inside," he said, and they stepped over the landing. Shutting the door after them, he explained, "I'm sorry for the wait; I was feeding the reindeer, and Ilena's in the back, trying to locate the others."

At the mention of Ilena, a lump grew in Peter's throat. Today would be awkward.

"Reindeer?" Lucy repeated. "Are you living here now?"

Father Christmas chuckled. He wore a simple tunic with puffy sleeves, the Christmas robes packed away until next year. Holding his arm out, he waited for Lucy to take it, saying, "Only for the time being. I am unable to return to Narnia at present. Ilena offered me her home until we get to the bottom of this."

Lucy took his arm and, with her and Nick leading the way, their small group walked to the rear of the flat. Upon passing the guest bedroom, Edmund took his leave. He wanted to see Lily before they left. Hopefully some of her strength had returned.

"Even though her being here isn't a good sign, I'm happy he gets to see her again," Lucy commented, smiling when Lily's voice rang out, "Ehmun!" Peter had told her and Susan everything earlier this morning.

"As am I, Your Majesty," Father Christmas said. "But she does not belong in this world. When everything is as it should be, we will have no choice but to send her back to Narnia. It's her home."

Lucy shook her head. "Home is more than a location."

They reached the door that opened to the backyard. Peter faltered only slightly before stepping out onto the grass. Before him, four huge trees towered above the fence circling Ilena's property. A bed of flowers ran the yard's length to his right, and a cobblestone path twisted around the side of the house. Ilena sat crisscrossed in the center, her back to them.

"There they are," Father Christmas said, pointing to where the reindeer were hidden beneath one of the trees. Lucy sprinted to them, and Nick walked after her, laughing. "It's been an interesting experience keeping them out of the neighbors' sight. One woman nearly had a heart attack this morning when she came out to water her plants and Vixen leaned over the fence."

In spite of himself, Peter grinned.

"Ilena." Father Christmas touched the girl's shoulder as he passed her. "They're here. Have you found anyone?"

Ilena's eyes slowly opened. She nodded. "Yes. Quinn is nearby. So is Aryanna. Taven is a town over, but, assuming he doesn't move anytime soon, we should be able to find him. I haven't latched onto anyone else yet."

"It is a good starting point."

Nick kept moving to join Lucy. Peter took Ilena's standing as his cue to approach her. Better to break down the walls early than spend the entire day feeling stinted and uncomfortable around each other.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning." She smiled, but the motion didn't reach her eyes. Peter noticed they looked a little bloodshot, a stark contrast for how put together the rest of her was. He wondered if she had fought for sleep like him. "Ready to go find some Avellas?"

"Depends. Am I going to be attacked by a minotaur again?"

"Let's hope not. Although we are going to visit Taven. Practically the same thing."

"Who is Taven?" Keeping track of the Avellas was near impossible.

"The Keeper of Love," Ilena said, distaste evident. She swung an arm over her chest, stretching the muscles out. "He and I…we don't exactly see eye-to-eye. Nick likes him, but Nick likes everyone."

"Why don't you get along?"

She switched to the other arm. "Oh, you'll see. Just wait." The knowing gleam she wore put him on edge. "By the way, where is Susan? She's getting off lucky by not having to meet him."

"She, Mum and Dad went to the market. She and Dad have always been close, so she wanted to spend some time with him."

"Oh." Cautiously, she said, "If you, Lucy and Edmund would rather be with your family, I understand. Nick and I can do this alone today. I don't want you to be here against your will."

"I want to be here." They had a job to do, like it or not.

Ilena did not look convinced. Peter half expected her to bring up last night, but she kept her mouth shut. She despised conveying her emotions. Bringing up their previous conversation would test her barriers.

And now it was awkward.

"Alright."

Just then, the door behind them creaked and Edmund stepped into the yard. A faint blush shaded his cheeks. He kept his eyes away from Peter's as he approached them, practically glowing. Peter made a mental note to tease him later.

"Are we ready to go?" Edmund asked, analyzing the way Avella and the High King were standing. Not as close as they would be normally, but not so far away it looked painful. For both their sakes, Edmund hoped everything was ok. He liked Ilena, but anyone who could cause his brother so much pain didn't win any brownie points with him. He never wanted to see Peter cry that much again.

"As soon as Lucy stops pestering the reindeer," Peter said, loudly enough for the youngest Pevensie to hear.

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him and proceeded to pat Prancer's coat. "I'm not pestering them, are I, Prancer?" Prancer brayed in reply, leaning into her hand. Two of the other reindeer surged forward, wanting to get in on the love. With a giggle, Lucy complied, wishing they were in Narnia so they could speak to her. Eventually she gave each deer one last scratch, and then she and Father Christmas joined the cluster.

"Here's the plan," said Ilena. "We'll be taking Nick's deer and sleigh. Our first stop is Quinn. He's in some convenience store downtown by the train station. He'll be sleeping as always, so I don't think we have to worry about him moving anytime soon. Aryanna's a bit more…sporadic. Last I checked she's at some pub over off Catuple Street. Depending on the atmosphere, she could stay there, she could not. Taven is in another town completely. He'll be the most difficult."

"Excuse me, but did you just say we're taking the sleigh?" said Edmund. "Won't people find it a little odd to see a bunch of reindeer going down the street?"

Ilena smiled dangerously. "Who said we're taking the street?"

OOOOO

"Um, I don't know about this," Edmund said, voice trembling.

"Calm down. You won't fall off."

"And even if you do, we'll catch you," Ilena assured him.

Somehow, this didn't make Edmund feel any better. Gripping the side of the sleigh, he closed his eyes as it lurched, causing him to fly forward out of his seat. Didn't this thing have any safety belts?

"Which way?" Father Christmas inquired. His long beard rippled in the wind, his face uplifted into a smile. Loosely he held the reins as the eight deer before him bucked and lowed, ready to soar higher.

"That way." Ilena pointed west. "Look for Third Avenue. The place is called Cedar Home Finishings. Big sign, you can't miss it."

Nick cracked the reins and instantly the sleigh climbed forty feet higher, over Ilena's flat. Houses could be seen for hundreds of miles in every direction, cookie-cutter lawns dotting the landscape. People milled about, congregating on street corners. From up here, the world seemed vast and endless.

"I don't see how this solves the problem of attracting attention," Edmund said. His face was a worrisome shade of green. The Just King hated heights.

"Nick has a cloaking device," said Ilena.

Father Christmas nodded. "Good thing, too, or I'd be out of a job."

Before Edmund could raise any further objections, the reindeer pulled into a dive, careening over a smoking chimney, around a white-washed house and back up into the air. Lucy squealed in excitement. On her right, Peter held tight to the seat beneath him, happy but a little panicked. On her left, Edmund shut his eyes. Nick and Ilena sat in the front seat, looking perfectly calm.

As they flew, Lucy and Peter marveled at their hometown. They had never realized just how compacted everything was. Though she knew the people below couldn't see her, Lucy waved at them.

"Oh, Prancer, quit it," Nick scolded. The crazy bugger kept flinging his head back, attempting to get closer to Lucy.

"What makes them fly?" Edmund gasped through his nausea. He stared fixedly at the sleigh's floor, hands on either side of his head.

Ilena glanced back. "Magic," she said simply. "Gifting reindeer with the power of flight is a lot easier than fading everywhere. Requires less energy and focus." Taking pity on him, she added, "If you're feeling that bad, try putting your head between your legs and breathing through your nose."

"It'll pass."

"At any rate, we're almost there." Swiveling back around, Ilena sent a burst of air beneath the deer and the sleigh accelerated. They rocketed over a market, Peter and Lucy searching for Susan and their parents amidst all the vendors. For four more blocks they flew before Ilena pointed out, "There."

Coaxing the reindeer down, Nick steered them into an alley off Cedar Home Furnishing's right side. They touched down smoothly. The instant they were grounded, Edmund flung himself out of the backseat and onto the snow-laden asphalt.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to feel earth beneath my feet," he crooned, breathing hard.

Lucy shook her head, amused, and she and Peter climbed out of the sleigh. Ilena hopped out of the front, Nick following suit after he finished tying down the reins. "Behave," he warned the deer. His gaze lingered on Prancer, who, despite being mute, acted offended.

They walked to the front of the store. What few people there were outside threw them mystified looks, wondering why in the world they'd come from the alley. Several women audibly disapproved of Ilena's pants, and even more commented on Nick's flamboyant attire. So much for blending in.

"OK," Ilena said as they made their way toward the bedding section, "he should be on a white duvet with beading."

Finding Quinn was tricky. Everywhere they looked, beds stretched out, piled high with covers of all colors and designs. Ilena warned them not to call the young Avella; he slept so soundly, it would do no good. After ten minutes of getting lost in the shelving units, pillows, and mattresses, Lucy hollered, "I found him!"

Quinn lay curled into a small ball, his chest gently rising and falling. In an effort to appear normal, he'd cut his raven hair; it curled around his head in ringlets, messy. Brown slacks replaced his normal blue, and the button down shirt, wrinkled from sleep, looked completely foreign on him.

"Quinn," Ilena said, touching the boy lightly on his shoulder. He looked no older than twelve. He didn't stir.

"Someone's looking," Nick cautioned when Ilena brought her hands up.

Across the way, a small girl watched them, her round eyes wide. Nick's clothing had attracted her attention. They waited for her mother to collect her, Ilena shaking Quinn realistically to avoid any more attention.

When the girl's mother at last appeared, Ilena did a quick survey around. No one. Lightning fast, she brought her hands down again, sending a warm gust of air over Quinn. He yawned. Stretching once, he looked up at the semi-circle surrounding him, delight replacing surprise.

"Hello," he said cheerfully, used to waking up with crowds of people around him.

"Hello, Quinn," Ilena said, inclining her head. "Kind of a public place for a nap, don't you think?"

"Are you kidding? This is the new model," Quinn said, stroking the duvet with a loving hand. "Best nap I've ever taken. And that's saying something. I don't think anyone's minded too much."

Nick shook his head incredulously. "Only you, Quinn. Now, up, my boy! There's work to be done. And seeing as how you've just finished napping, I'd wager you'll be wide awake for what is coming."

"What's coming?" Quinn slid off the bed. Edmund coughed a laugh, seeing how short he was. Even Lucy surpassed him.

"Let's take a walk," suggested Nick.

The six of them ambled back outside. They didn't immediately go into the alley; such an action would look suspicious. Instead they moseyed down the sidewalk, keeping their voices low. Ilena started by asking, "When did you last fade?"

Quinn shrugged. "Late November, I think. This time of year I come early because the nights grow so long. People tend to sleep more, and thus dream. It keeps me busy. I haven't had a reason to go back to N—" he stopped himself, "—to go back home. Why?"

Together, Nick and Ilena explained everything, right down to Lily. As they talked, Quinn's eyebrows slanted down, making him come across as far more solemn than he actually was. When Ilena finished, Quinn whistled.

"I always miss the good stuff."

"That's because you're always sleeping."

"Oh, shut it, Ilena." They reached the intersection, doubled back around and Quinn said, "So when were you planning on going to the Glen?"

Ilena and Nick exchanged glances. "As soon as possible," Ilena said. "We can't afford to wait. Certain beings appearing in this world would be disastrous, if you know what I mean."

It took Quinn a second to register whatever underlying message she tried to communicate. When he got it, he nodded his head quickly. "I understand. In that case, would you like me to get Aryanna? Taven's a bit far for me to walk, and if what you are saying is true, I won't be able to fade. But I'll do what I can with her."

"That would be helpful," Ilena agreed. "I'm certain she's still at the pub, which is only two miles from here. Can you get there?"

"Of course. You just worry about Taven. Try not to set a rabid wolf on him this time, OK? We'll need him in one piece."

"You send a wolf out one time, and suddenly everyone thinks that's all you do," Ilena said, throwing her hands up in the air. "He deserved it after that embarrassing fiasco at Cosette's New Year's party."

Father Christmas laughed gaily. "I'm sure he didn't mean to hit you while looking at that poor Faun. His arrows have a mind of their own. It was an accident."

"An accident?" Ilena scoffed. "Somehow I don't think so. I trailed after that Faun for a week straight like a lovesick puppy before the effects wore off. No, that was payback for that time I turned his favorite hairbrush into a mouse. While he was still using it."

Sniggers erupted from behind them. Looking back, the three Avellas caught sight of Edmund doubled over, laughing uproariously. Through the tears streaming down his face, he choked out, "What kind of parties do you people have?"

Quinn said, "We may be guardians, but even we know how to have fun. Mostly it's just Ilena and Taven who pull pranks. He's not been able to resist after she turned him down thirty-four-hundred years ago. She wounded his pride."

"Oh, he was just upset he couldn't add me to his list of conquests," Ilena said. "He's a huge prat with an ego I'm surprised fits in Narnia's boarders. Anyway, Quinn, you'll be able to get hold of Aryanna?"

"Sure. Go find Taven. And, Ilena…play nice."

Ilena rolled her eyes and bid him farewell, heading for the sleigh. Her four companions followed, waving to Quinn as he turned on his heels and fled across the street at full speed. The sleigh was right where they had left it. All eight reindeer rejoiced upon seeing their riders return.

"Here we go again," Edmund groaned, shutting his eyes as the sleigh lifted off the ground.

"I keep learning more and more surprising things about you," Peter said when they were above the clouds that had accumulated while they were inside the store. "What other secrets are you hiding from me?"

He asked out of curiosity, but mostly because he still wanted to break down the invisible wall built up between them from last night. If he could just get her talking, just get her to understand he loved her and always would, even though he felt agony at her decision, they would be alright. They would get past this and when things settled down, he'd try again. If nothing else, he would wait until she opened up about her reasoning behind her refusal.

"Peter," said Ilena, "I have a tremendous amount of respect for you. But let me say that there are some things you don't want to know. It'll change how you think of me, and I'm lucky enough that you put up with me as I am."

"What she means is," Nick simplified, "she was a free spirit in those first few hundred years, and some of the messes she tangled herself in are embarrassing."

"Do tell," Peter egged Nick on.

"Well—"

"Tell him anything and I'll hex you, Nick."

"Would you all stop talking?" demanded Edmund. "If I laugh right now, I'll be sick."

The sleigh fell silent, but not before four sets of giggles let loose. Poor Edmund.

Taven resided in Whetstone. Their journey would take approximately a half hour with the reindeer going at full speed. Luckily today's forecast called for sun, so even being up high they weren't too cold. For the entire trip, Peter's eyes remained locked on Ilena's backside, watching her embrace the sun, smile when a silent joke passed between her and Nick, and close her eyes, letting the gentle wind wash over her.

Why hadn't she said yes?

Under Ilena's directions, they reached Whetstone and touched down behind a grove of trees in a park. The reindeer began chowing down on the grass with gusto, pleased. The park was alive with activity. All around, couples enjoyed picnics, men walked their dogs, and children played. Ilena led them through the crowds to a bench, where a man around Peter's age sat, arms crossed, grinning. Bright red hair soaked up the sunlight and green eyes watched them approach, daring something Peter couldn't comprehend.

"Ilena!" Taven exclaimed when she stopped before him. Edmund thought he might be mental, for he stood, reached out and hugged her, kissing both her cheeks. "Long time, love. And Nick! Looking dashing as ever." His eyes flashed to the Pevensies. "And the Kings and Queens of Old. Where's your other sister?"

"Never mind that," said Ilena. "We need to talk."

"Ouch," Taven winced. "Ilena's not happy." He shrugged. "Well, come on, then. Talk."

"Not here."

"Fine, fine, fine." Taven looked beyond them, eyes honing in on the trees the reindeer hid behind. "Back there." Going first, he slung his arm around Ilena's side, hugging her into him.

Something madly frothed inside of Peter. Suddenly, he felt very angry. Like he wanted to hit something.

"Enough of that," Ilena said, twisting out of his grip.

Taven smirked. His head revolved in Peter's direction, and recognition settled. "Ah. I'm surprised at you, Ilena. You've found someone to care about you. This really is going to hurt our relationship. I thought you loved me."

"Taven," Ilena warned him, crossing her arms.

"I'm just saying," Taven excused himself, shoving both hands in the pockets of his tan slacks. "The High King doesn't mind, do you?"

Oh, yes, Peter minded. Peter minded very much.

Maneuvering his way around children, Taven took the lead. As he walked, his fiery head slanted from side to side. Every few people he'd wink at and the most peculiar thing happened. The woman and man standing with considerable distance between them would out of the blue glance at each other, goofy smiles on their faces.

It made Peter's stomach sick and Edmund wish he were back at Ilena's flat with Lily.

"So, who needs saving now?" Taven asked when they were out of earshot of the other park-goers. "If it's another dwarf looking for a wife, you're on your own. I refuse to be part of their insane rituals again."

"It's not a dwarf," said Edmund, lip quivering. Why did they all keep hinting at stories from their pasts? He didn't know if he could bare hearing snippets of another surely-hilarious escapade.

"Wait," said Taven, holding both arms out in a _stop-everything! _way. He faced Ilena. "It's you, isn't it? You want me to plan your wedding, don't you? Oh, this is so great! I always knew you'd come to me. Now, I'm thinking we go with a flower theme. You know, with you being Mother Nature and all. Something simple, but ele—"

"Taven, _shut up_," Ilena said, exasperated, one palm to her forehead. "I'm not getting married, so forget that."

Hearing her say it out loud felt very much like a slap in the face to Peter. His jaw settled as he forced down the bubbling emotions in his core. Now wasn't the time.

"Then what is it?"

Nick retold the story this time, knowing if Ilena tried to and Taven interrupted, the park might explode. As he spoke, Peter inspected Taven from head to toe. He supposed he was handsome enough. Tall and confident. But Peter…Peter had fought wars! He'd battled Sylas! Heck, he was High King of Narnia! Call it a test of masculinity, but there was no way this…Avella…would attract Ilena. Not like Peter.

Taven needed to stop touching her.

"Don't tell me you're falling for him," Peter hissed to Lucy. In effort to keep from losing his control, he'd settled his attention on his younger sister, only to realize in horror she stared at the male Avella with admiration.

"Well…I," Lucy floundered for words, a blush creeping up her neck. "Oh, calm down, Peter!"

"So what you're saying," Taven stopped Nick, "is the whole world is falling to pieces? Lovely. Well, personally, I haven't felt anything. Maybe Ilena's knickers are just in a twist?"

Ilena's eyes sparked to life, the cover over her irises melting away.

Nick hastened to intervene. "It is affecting me as well, so I don't believe Ilena is having any sort of personal issues. Really, Taven. Some respect. We need to be serious about this. The fact of the matter is, powers are disappearing and the barricade between worlds is failing. We have a course of action, but we need your help."

"Of course you do. Like Quinn and Aryanna will be able to get you to the Whispering Glen."

"They're damn right nicer than you," Ilena said, sticking out her hip, settling on it.

"Love is cruel, darling," Taven shrugged. "Even if they are, they're not as powerful. When are you planning on taking this trip?"

"Tomorrow. If that works in your 'schedule,'" Ilena said flatly. "Think you can pull yourself away from the mirror long enough to help us?"

Just then, a petite woman in a red skirt walked past them. Taven followed her with his eyes, a sinful smirk sliding into place. He didn't notice Ilena's enraged expression, or Nick's discomfited posture.

"Taven." Ilena smacked him in the face.

Even Edmund, who would normally laugh, kept still, shocked at her.

"That was unneeded," Taven reprimanded Ilena, his cheek burning red. Running a hand through his hair, he conceded, "Fine, I'll help you. But if you slap me again, it's war, Ilena."

"As if I'm scared of you."

"You should be."

"Enough," Peter broke in. He could not take anymore. From what he gathered, Taven was maniacal, insensitive, and just plain rude. He had assumed all Avellas, excluding Sylas, worked for the common good and were compassionate. Apparently not. "So, we have your word?"

Taven went dark. Peter operated as an alpha male. So did he. The two were not a good mix. Were Peter not High King, he would not have replied so civilly, "Yes, Your Magnificence. You have my word."

"Good. Be at my flat tomorrow at noon," Ilena said, stepping between the two boys. "Leave your attitude at home."

"You know it's part of my charm, Ilena. Stop trying to resist."

"The only thing I'm resisting is the urge to hit you again. See you tomorrow." And she stalked to the sleigh, shoulders wound.

"I await our meeting, love," Taven called after her. "Well, if we're done here—and based on Ilena's stomping, I'd venture we are—I must be going. I know a sixteen year old who's been wishing for a boy from her school to notice her all day. Toodles." He walked back to the bench, every step purposeful.

"_That's _Cupid?" Edmund asked Nick, horror-struck. Cupid was supposed to be a fat baby in a diaper wielding arrows…not a pompous arse with a flashy self-image.

Father Christmas heaved a sigh, troubled. "No, that's Taven around Ilena. Usually he's better mannered, but they tend to bring out the worst in each other. Don't fret on it, Your Majesties. We're lucky to have him on our side. Love is a powerful thing. He's a good person underneath. He's just been hurt too many times."

"Are you sure he's not the one doing the hurting?"

"Taven is exposed to all the heartache in the world, all the unrequited love. He has reason to hide behind a mask. He and Ilena are much the same in that way."

"No," Peter said quietly. "No, she's nothing like him."

Back at the sleigh, Ilena was still fuming when they joined her. Eyes steely, she looked ahead, giving short, clipped answers when they asked her if she was alright. The reindeer were not happy to have their meal interrupted, but with reassurance from Lucy that she'd pet them until her arm fell off back at Ilena's, they tore themselves from the grass and flew into the air as Nick tugged on the reins.

Halfway back to Finchley, Ilena addressed Peter. "Now you understand why we don't get along."

Peter nodded.

The rest of the trip was silent.


	6. Passing Judgment

**6 – Passing Judgment**

* * *

"Carry the one," Edmund reminded her. Lily faltered with the pencil, unsure. Both eyes searched the columns for the appropriate place to put the dash. Kindly, he wrapped his hand around hers, guiding her through the movements. When he finished, she smiled in appreciation.

They sat in Ilena's guest bedroom, huddled atop her mattress. Pages upon pages of equations littered the blankets, covered in eraser shavings. Subtraction caused Lily the most grief, but, with Edmund's help, she seemed to be improving.

"Lily done," she said, filling in the last digit in the answer, glowing with pride. The bed creaked as she pushed up onto her knees and peered over Edmund's shoulder, watching him check her work.

Edmund pretended to be confused. Holding the paper up against the light, he studied it, rotating it around. In his peripheral vision he saw Lily bite her lip, worry tugging down her brow. "Lily," he said seriously. "This is…absolutely right!"

Her look of concern gave way to one of joy. Arms wrapped around Edmund as launched herself down on him, hugging him fiercely from behind. Her hair cascaded over him in a waterfall of red. "Ehmun help!"

Edmund couldn't stop the slight blush that dusted his cheeks. "Ah, only a little. You're doing great, Lily! Does it make sense now?"

Lily nodded, releasing him. "Sense." Meticulously, she began to gather all the practice sheets Edmund had made for her, and organized them into a neat pile. The action was so…_human_…so reminiscent of his sister, Susan, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

"Lily vera thanks you," Lily told him when she'd set the papers on her side table. Her brown eyes sparkled at him.

"You're welcome." Running a hand through his hair, over his eyes and to the side of his face, he blinked a few times. "We can do this more tomorrow, if you like."

"Yes, like. Like vera much."

"I'll make some more problems, then." Edmund slid off the bed, twisting his back in the process. Three hours sitting in the same position meant his body didn't appreciate the sudden movement. _Crack _went his lower spine.

"Where going?" Lily asked as he breathed a sigh.

"Going?"

"Today."

"Oh." Taken aback by the intensity of her gaze, he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I'm going with Ilena and the others to a place called the Whispering Glen. We're trying to figure out how you got here."

"Lily go home?"

Edmund nodded slowly, put off by the thought. He knew she belonged in Narnia, but he didn't have to be happy about it. Strange as it may be, Edmund found pleasure in her company. The emotional scars of being a pawn to the White Witch still stung, and though his family no longer held it against him, looking them in the eyes remained difficult. Lily, on the other hand, was different. She didn't know his past, didn't know the voice that continued to haunt his dreams. No, she saw him simply for who he was now. A clean slate.

"Yes, you'll go home eventually."

"Ehmun come too?"

Put on the spot, he dropped his face to the floor. Truthfully, he'd give anything to return to Narnia. But such an opportunity didn't feel likely. Not unless a full-on genocide occurred, something he simply couldn't justify for his own happiness.

"No, I can't come with you."

Lily fiddled with her hands, pouting. In a pair of Ilena's breeches and a dark blouse, scrubbed spotless, she looked nothing like herself. "Lily go Glen?"

Could she come? Edmund hadn't thought about it before. Now that he did, he didn't see why not. Her body was still healing, but she moved with relative ease.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," her reply came at once.

"Alright. Let's ask Ilena. Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. Lily scrambled off the bed, cheeks spread in a glorious smile. They left the room and walked to the front of the house.

Anyone not privy to Narnia would have lost their mind at the sight before them. All the furniture in the living room had been shoved against the walls, exposing the rug underneath. Apart from the lamp in the corner, darkness shrouded the air, all the curtains decisively shut. Nick, Quinn, Aryanna and the remaining Pevensie children formed a ring in the middle of the floor, leaving three spaces empty.

"Hi, Lily," Susan greeted the Cantrical girl fondly, remembering their time together in the woods.

"Susan," Lily said, waving both hands.

Susan raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise, but did not comment.

"Where is Ilena?" Edmund asked, noticing the Avella absent from the group.

"Out back practicing," answered Quinn.

"Practicing _what_?"

Nick chimed in, "She didn't sleep well last night. She has somehow convinced herself that traveling to the Glen is a big risk, despite her previous drive to go there. Mostly she worries that attempting to bring such a large group will have unknown consequences. I suggested to her last night that she practice something she's been struggling with for months to alleviate her stress. However she took my advice a bit too literally and has been out there since two this morning."

"But shouldn't she-"

The doorbell rang, cutting off Edmund's next question. "I'll get it!" Quinn said, bounding up. He flew around the corner and out of sight. The door opened. "Oh. Are you _early_?" his voice rang out, astonished.

"Actually, I am," Taven replied, stepping around the young Avella and into the flat. Seeing them all sitting in a close-knit circle, he laughed. "A sewing circle. How quaint." He situated himself in one of the vacant slots, in between Susan and Peter. At once, he turned to the Gentle Queen. "My dear, how lovely to see you again. It's been some time," he remarked, bringing up memories of when she rode on Aslan as she and Maria had gathered his army.

"Yes," she said with a girlish giggle.

From across the room, Edmund made gagging motions, much to the delight of Lily, who caused them all to jump with her high-pitched laugh. Eyes picking up on her brother's actions, Susan glared at him before twisting so she faced Nick on her left instead.

"Where's the big old stick in the mud?" Taven asked next.

"If you are referring to Ilena," said Aryanna, flicking a strand of her long white hair over her shoulder, "she's outside."

"I'll get her," Peter volunteered. No one objected as he stood and headed for the backyard.

Ilena sat in the same position as the previous morning, only this time her body directly faced the flat. Eyes shut, fingers dug into the grass, she looked like she could be sleeping.

"Taven's here," Peter said, stopping at her side. He could barely hear her response over the tumultuous beat of his heart, ringing in his ears.

"Time to go, then."

"Nick said you're working on something. What is it?"

The Ilena he loved, playful and wild, surfaced as she said, "I'll show you. Step back." Peter obliged, and when he was clear of her, she released her hands from the dirt, turning both palms down flat against the fringe of grass. She checked to see no one was watching and then a light shimmered from each of her fingertips. With a blast of air, her body lifted off the ground, hanging suspended at the level of his chest. For a solid minute she held herself that way, strain evident in a slight twitch by her eye. Just as quickly as she rose up, she fell back down, exhaling roughly. The light dimmed. Still, she grinned, pleased.

"I'm confused," Peter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't you usually use wind in battle?"

"Not like this. I'm trying to get to the point where I don't have to be on the ground at all. Can you imagine how easy it would be getting places if my fading doesn't return?" She cracked her knuckles and stood. "Wind is tricky, though. The longest I've held it is six minutes."

"You'll get your fading back. You have to."

"Because you can promise that. Life's full of too many ifs to be sure. I'm preparing for the worst." She groaned. "Speaking of worst, you said Taven's here? He's never early."

When they arrived back in the living room, Susan, Lucy, Taven and even Lily had their heads thrown back, laughing.

"And then, if you can believe it, the poor centaur lost his balance and did a face plant right into Lord Kumaii," Taven finished saying, clutching his sides.

More laughter. Edmund looked on in horror, the Avellas in surrendered amusement, at the girls' faces. Questioningly, Peter sent a look Ilena's way. She rolled her eyes.

"Taven has…an aura about him. Mortal females are unable to resist his charms, no matter how poorly he treats them."

"And Avella girls?"

Ilena scoffed. "I'm quite immune to it, Peter, I assure you. Thanks for the concern."

"There she is," Taven stopped guffawing long enough to remark. "Playing in the dirt again, I see." He frowned. "How unladylike of you."

"I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

"Amongst other things."

"Lily wants to come," Edmund blurted out before Ilena and Taven could really start going at it. Seeing Ilena's expression, he hastened, "She won't be any trouble. Promise. But she needs to get out of this house. If she doesn't, she'll go mad. It's not good for her."

Quinn broke the silence first. "There are five of us. One for each." He fidgeted in his seat, kneading his hands together. "Besides, she can't weigh more than ninety pounds. Easy enough to keep hold of."

"Lily come?" Lily looked to Ilena pleadingly.

"It's not up to me," said Ilena. "I don't speak for everyone. Personally, I think fewer people would be better. The extra Avella might aid us. But we should vote on it."

"Yes," said Quinn at once.

"I don't see why not," came Aryanna's response.

"Someone has to balance your negativity," Taven said.

"That's three, that's majority," Ilena said. Her eyes were on Nick, who hadn't voted. His eyebrows bucked down, deep in thought. He didn't look any happier about the situation than Ilena.

"Alright, Lily. You can come."

Edmund grimed triumphantly at the Cantrical girl, and the two seated themselves in the circle.

"We need to do a quick run-through of the plan. Nick," said Ilena, "You've been through the Glen the most out of all of us. Tell them what to expect."

Nick nodded and cleared his throat. The light from the lamp threw sharp shadows on his face, making it appear downcast and bothered. "As we cannot fade, we'll be going to the Glen by a method called spiriting. It does not require the same energy as fading because your bodies will not be what are moving. Instead, your souls will be making the journey.

"I don't want anyone to panic, so let me explain. You will experience a tug. It may hurt. The best advice I can give you is to try and remain calm. The more relaxed you are, the less it will affect you. When you arrive in the Glen, your body will feel, for lack of a better word, heavy. The tie connecting you to the real world will weigh you down. You may become drowsy and tired.

"I cannot stress enough to stay by one of us. Do not wander off. The Glen is beautiful, but filled with temptations that would be safer left alone. The Glen is built from raw magic. Strange things happen there, some even we do not understand. You will have our blessings, but they will not keep you safe if you go out of your way to cause trouble."

"Don't forget to have fun," Taven broke in dryly. "You are all taking this way too seriously. Stop worrying. They are the Kings and Queens of Old." Glancing at Lily, he added, "And a reformed Cantrical. Their hearts are about as pure as they come. The Glen will judge them correctly."

"No chances," said Ilena. Her eyes left Taven and swept over the rest of the group. "Is anyone carrying a weapon? They're not permitted in the Glen."

Aryanna's hand dug into the folds of her rosy pink, floor-length robe, and came out holding a dagger. "I forgot," she said to Ilena's surprised face as she handed it to her, tip down. Ilena set it on the side table behind her.

"Anyone else?" When they all shook their heads, Ilena also asked, "Are there any questions before we go?"

"Are you sure we won't lose our heads?" said Edmund, breaking the tension.

"I guess we'll see."

Each Avella took the hands of the mortals sitting next to them—they were alternated around the circle so no two of either race sat side by side. The Avellas closed their eyes, forcing their legs to cross so they sat Indian-style. The Pevensies and Lily followed suit.

"Take a deep breath," said Ilena. "Feel oxygen work its way through your body. Feel your shoulders lift, your stomach move. Let it out slowly, allowing your muscles to unwind."

Peter inhaled. His back muscles cracked and shuddered.

Quinn said, "Focus on your vision. See through the blackness of your eyelids and let all thought disappear. Nothing but your center exists. You are free to do whatever you wish. Limits can be broken, and you feel yourself breaking them now."

Susan ignored the tiny voice in the back of her head, calling for this absurd ritual to stop.

"Your body feels weightless. You are floating upward, past the ceiling, into a void. There is no light, there is no dark. Your consciousness is the only thing keeping you aware of your surroundings. Fold inside yourself and find what light you can. Go to it," Aryanna joined in.

Edmund's body tingled. Deep within himself, he felt a hot sensation, not painful, but still a fire of sorts.

"Your consciousness is racing to the light." Nick's voice sounded distant, like an echo in a cave. "Let it engulf you. Rays are compressing into you, slipping through your skin. Direct yourself to the bending wave nearing your heart. Open yourself to it; allow it to seep in, and feel the power and energy."

Lucy's chest seemed ready to burst, as a blistering rupture tore through her.

"And here we go!" Taven crowed.

His tone would have put them all off their concentration, if not for the fact that they were already being ripped through…well, they didn't exactly know. Their bodies twisted and contorted in all directions, being pulled and tugged and wrenched and dragged. A sharp pain rose above all other sensations, and with a strangled cry, the five mortals hit something rough.

"OW!" Edmund said first, following up with a loud curse.

"Don't open your eyes yet," Ilena said quickly when Peter blinked. Immediately he shut them again. "Cool down. Breathe." He sensed her striding around him, heard the soft crunch of earth beneath her feet.

Several heartbeats passed before Peter squinted into the bright sunlight again. The pulsating fire emanating from his chest whittled away. He could smell something burning, could feel the tickle of grass beneath his face.

"Hold still," said Quinn. He beat down the flames on Peter's back and helped the High King to his feet.

Around them, the others were being taken care of as well: Nick wiped the dirt and ash off Lucy's face as she wobbled on shaky legs; Aryanna had a firm grip on Lily, who was fighting against her to get to Edmund; Ilena stomped out the fires around Edmund's body, at the same time tending to his chest, where several smoking holes blotted out large portions of his shirt; Taven had both hands in Susan's hair, thumbs and pointer fingers extinguishing flames with a sizzle.

"So who's not dead?" Ilena asked when she had put out the fires.

"I thought you said it _may _hurt," Edmund said, taking Lily's hand to stop her from clawing Aryanna's eyes out. "I feel like I'm suffocating."

As he said this, Peter realized how packed in his own chest felt. It hurt to breathe.

"That's your tie to the mortal world," Nick said, dusting off his pants. "Be grateful for it—it's what is keeping you alive."

"This isn't exactly what I pictured," admitted Susan as she looked around them, flushed. Taven smirked behind her.

They stood on a grassy stretch of land, black patches sprinkled throughout from the fires. Fog loomed so no more than ten meters were visible in any given direction. The sky churned black overhead.

"I'm not impressed," said Edmund.

"Good, because this isn't the Glen," Aryanna told them. "Before you can be part of its glory, Coen must judge you."

"Who-"

"The Avella of Justice," Ilena cut Susan off. "Guardian of all realms. Aslan's gatekeeper. None may enter the Glen without his approval. Now is when the magic may kill you."

"Excellent," Edmund said.

"Relax and you'll be fine."

"How am I supposed to re-"

"Shhh," Nick shushed him, one gnarled finger to his lips. With his other hand, he pointed into the fog.

A dark shape drifted toward them, hovering two feet off the ground. As it drew nearer, Aryanna and Nick moved closer to Lucy, like bodyguards. Edmund swatted Aryanna's hand away, stepping in front of Lily protectively. Susan's blushed increased tenfold as Taven placed a hand on her shoulder. Quinn squirmed. Peter stared at Ilena, whose back was rigid.

The figure that emerged was nothing short of terrifying. Empty eye sockets carved back into a sallow face, which had the consistency of aged newspaper. Long, spindled fingers poked out of a glimmering gold robe that faded into nothing as it descended down the body. The Avella had no hair to speak of, not even eyebrows. A silver sword encrypted with ancient Narnian text that ran from hilt to tip floated beside him, a ring of fire encircling it.

Susan dropped her eyes, creeped out, but her three siblings and Lily looked on, transfixed by the sight before them.

Coen floated to Susan first. Taking the sword and swinging it out in front of him, he pointed the blade at the Gentle Queen's face, the flames fluctuating. The blaze flickered in her frightened eyes.

"I, Taven, Keeper of Love, speak for this mortal, Susan Pevensie of Finchley, in the name of his majesty, King Aslan," Taven said, staring the eyeless Avella straight in the sockets. "I bless her to the Glen."

Coen didn't remove the sword, didn't falter an inch. For a solid minute, he judged her silently. Susan acted paralyzed. Then, he moved to Lucy. The sword went down and so did Susan. Taven caught her before she could hit the dirt.

Coen didn't seem to affect Lucy in any way. The youngest Pevensie kept her chip up, her body rooted. Beside her, Nick spoke, "I, Father Christmas, Keeper of Hope and Goodwill, speak for this mortal, Lucy Pevensie of Finchley, in the name of his majesty, King Aslan. I bless her to the Glen." Following these words, Coen continued on to Lily.

"Edmund, move," Quinn instructed him, keeping his tone even. "He must be able to reach her."

Edmund scowled, but did as he was told. Slowly he removed Lily's hand from his, telling her everything would be alright. He took five steps away.

"I, Aryanna, Keeper of the Past, speak for this mortal, Lily of Narnia, in the name of his majesty, King Aslan. I bless her to the Glen."

Lucy hadn't reacted, Susan had collapsed (but she was coming to) and Lily….Lily screamed. Like a wild animal, she crouched down, baring her teeth, the noises coming from her mouth caught somewhere between shrieks and snarls.

Coen considered her, lowering the flaming sword so it was at the level of her eyes, even as she tensed on all fours.

"Do something!" said Edmund, face pale.

"There's nothing we can do. He must judge her as he sees fit."

Five minutes slipped by. Coen lowered the sword to his side, and Lily's screaming faded away, leaving a bitter aftertaste in the air. Edmund was deemed the next contestant. As with Lily, he lost it thirty seconds in.

"No!" Edmund shouted. Both hands were pressed to his ears. "No, you're dead. Go away! You cannot control me!"

"I, Ilena, Keeper of Nature and Rebirth, speak for this mortal, Edmund Pevensie of Finchley, in the name of his majesty, King Aslan. I bless him to the Glen," Ilena rattled off. Both she and Aryanna were restraining Lily from interfering with Edmund's judgment.

Coen raised the sword, ready to strike, but then appeared to think better of it. The hand not holding the blade touched Edmund's forehead. Edmund broke into a cold sweat.

"He has been forgiven by Aslan. Or do you wish to turn against him?" Ilena said.

Coen nodded, and at last came for Peter. His empty eye sockets looked even more disgusting up close. Peter refused the impulse to distance himself from the sword's flames.

Quinn gave the blessing. "I, Quinn, Keeper of Night and Dreams, speak for this mortal, Peter Pevensie of Finchley, in the name of his majesty, King Aslan. I bless him to the Glen."

Peter stood tall, only losing his composure when a voice entered his head. It echoed, sounding both male and female, young and old, all at once. Crashing through logic, it demanded his attention.

_A little prince trying to be king. Try and fail, try and fail. You pushed Edmund into joining the White Witch. He fell in battle because of you. You've slaughtered hundreds of men, leaving their wives and children, their parents and siblings, to mourn. You caused all the deaths at Miraz's castle._

Peter wanted to refute these claims, but knew if he did, something terrible would happen. The Avella used every shred of ammo he could find buried in Peter's memories. His worst fears. His biggest regrets. The thoughts that haunted his dreams.

_That Cantrical girl was lost. If you had only helped her… Those townspeople at the Pine. Ilena's life for yours. And now you cause her pain by asking for the hand she cannot give. So many failures, one right after the other. Why should I admit you? You are nothing. You are weak. You don't deserve to be king._

_I know_, Peter thought, closing his eyes and letting remorse overtake him.

Sensing the king's inner release, Coen took back the sword. Peter winced as he suddenly lost his balance and crashed into Quinn's side. The poor boy stood less than half Peter's height and was nearly taken down by his weight.

Coen circulated his thoughts to all of them now. _You have passed. Be part of the wonder_. And with that, he faded into the fog, invisible.

"That went well," remarked Taven, fanning Susan.

"You withstood the magic," Ilena said, playing with the end of her ponytail. "I'm impressed." She signaled to Aryanna and they let Lily go. Lily streaked across the few steps between her and Edmund.

"Ehmun OK?" she said, taking his head in her hands.

"I'm fine. How are you, Lily?" Edmund's swift inhales and exhales gave away how frazzled he was. But he wasn't going to let Lily know.

"Lily OK."

"Ready yourselves," Nick said. He smiled at Edmund and Lily's interaction. "The illusion will melt away."

"What illusion?" questioned Susan.

But it was already happening. Before their eyes the fog dissipated, the grass greened and lengthened, the sun peeked out, and the air came to life with all sorts of noises. The Pevensies and Lily watched in amazement as the world took on a new form. When the transformation was complete, Lucy let out a little, "Wow."

"Welcome," Ilena said, stripping off her shoes. Flowers bloomed under and around her bare feet. "To the Whispering Glen."


End file.
